The Cult of Osiris

He carefully turned the lid. The two pieces of ancient pottery scraped against each other . . . then, with a faint crackle as the last remnants of the seal broke, they separated.

‘Whoa, shit,’ said Eddie, as the stench of something awful permeated the chamber. ‘Literally. Smells like his last meal was a kebab!’

Nina suppressed her revulsion. ‘It means the seal held, though. The contents were preserved for all this time.’

Kralj used a penlight to examine the jar’s interior. Something glistened inside. He tipped three of the bottles into it, swilling the mixture round, then used a large pipette to draw out a sample of the resulting dark slurry. He squirted it into a test tube, then added the last bottle’s contents.

‘This will take several minutes,’ he told Osir as he sealed the tube. ‘If there are any spores, the test will show them.’

‘Then we’ll make use of the time,’ Osir replied. He signalled to one of the troopers. ‘Open the sarcophagus.’

‘For God’s sake,’ said Nina, appalled. ‘This just gets worse. What are you going to do, autopsy the mummy?’

‘That’s what you’re most worried about?’ Macy said, eyeing the guns.

Like the canopic jars, the coffin had been sealed with a thick black mixture of resin and bitumen. One of Osir’s men carried a small circular saw, which he used to slice into the protective layer as he made his way round the sarcophagus. Another man followed, using a power tool with an abrasive head to grind open the seal along the cut.

It took them a few minutes to complete their circuit. ‘Open it,’ Osir ordered. Another two men came to the sarcophagus, the group assembling jacks on each side and inserting chrome-steel forks into the now exposed gap beneath the lid.

‘Ready, sir,’ said one man.

Osir gave Nina a satisfied look, then nodded. ‘Do it.’

The four men worked the jacks. Metal creaked, the seal cracking and splintering. One of the forks slipped slightly and gouged the metal, making Nina cringe at the damage.

‘Come on!’ Shaban barked impatiently. ‘Harder!’

The men increased their efforts, straining to lift the heavy lid. A deeper grind came from inside the sarcophagus, then with a jolt it opened. Grunting, they raised the silver figure of Osiris to the full height of the jacks . . . revealing another figure inside.

But this was not a sculpture. This was Osiris himself.

Or what was left of him. The body was mummified, tightly wrapped in a discoloured shroud, arms folded over its chest. The head was covered by a death mask, silver and gold shaped to match the face beneath. Unlike the famous burial masks of pharaohs like Tutankhamun and Psusennes, this was surprisingly modest, lacking their elaborate headdresses. If the mask were an accurate representation of the dead ruler, Osiris had possessed a surprisingly youthful appearance for one so powerful and revered.

Everyone leaned closer to look, even Kralj glancing up from his work. The recess in which the body lay had been matched almost perfectly to its shape, less than a centimetre to spare all round it. The lid had its own precisely shaped indentation set into the solid metal.

Osir gazed down at the man from whom he had taken his name. ‘Osiris,’ he whispered. ‘The god-king, granter of eternal life . . .’

‘You almost sound like you believe it,’ Nina scoffed.

‘A month ago, would you have believed Osiris was not just a myth?’ he countered. ‘Perhaps there’s more truth here than either of us thought.’

‘Not your version of the truth. You know, the skip-the-awkward-parts one you push on your followers.’

‘Who is to say that my interpretation of the story of Osiris is any less valid than another?’ said Osir smugly. ‘In fact, I’d say that this,’ he indicated the mummy, ‘makes it more valid. I found the tomb of Osiris because I was destined to find it. It proves I really do possess the spirit of Osiris. Wouldn’t you say?’

‘No, and nor would you if you were actually being honest with the dopes who hand you their money.’ Osir merely chuckled, but she noticed Shaban’s face tensing once more.

Before she could remark on it, Kralj looked up from his microscope. ‘Mr Osir!’

Osir went to him. ‘What’s the result of the test?’

Kralj carefully removed a slide from the microscope. ‘The test result,’ he said excitedly, ‘is . . . positive. There are spores of a yeast strain present.’

Osir could barely contain his exultation. ‘Oh, yes! Yes!’ He clenched his fists in glee. ‘I was right! The story of the bread of Osiris was true - and it’s going to make me rich, Sebak, rich beyond belief!’ He clasped his hands round his brother’s shoulders and shook him. ‘Rich!’

Shaban seemed disgusted. ‘Money. Is that all that matters to you?’

‘Of course not.’ Osir grinned and lowered his voice to a fake whisper. ‘There is the sex, too!’ He cackled.

‘You are pathetic,’ Shaban said coldly. ‘A disgrace to our family, and an insult to the gods. And I am no longer going to let that insult stand.’ The gun came up . . . and pointed at his brother’s chest.

Osir at first didn’t seem to register it, his mind refusing to accept what his eyes were seeing. ‘What are you doing, Sebak?’ he finally said with a half-laugh, which faded as he looked into Shaban’s face and saw nothing there but anger and hatred. ‘Sebak? What is this?’

‘This is the end, my brother,’ he spat. ‘You have had your pleasures, you have had everything that you never worked for and never deserved!’ He pushed Osir back against the sarcophagus.

Fear rose through Osir as he realised his brother was deadly serious. He looked desperately at the troopers. ‘Someone - someone take his gun.’ The men stared back, stone-faced. ‘Help me!’

‘They are not your followers,’ hissed Shaban with a thin, sneering smile. ‘They are mine. All your followers will now worship me - or they will die.’

Berkeley backed away nervously. ‘What’s - what’s going on?’

‘What’s going on, Dr Berkeley,’ said Shaban, ‘is that I am taking my rightful place as the head of the Temple. I am taking my birthright!’ He glared at the mummy behind Osir - then spat on it. ‘Osiris - pah! Set was the stronger brother. Set was the greater brother, but he was kept down by Osiris out of fear!’ He was shouting now, spittle flying from his mouth. ‘That time is over! My time has come! I am taking what is mine!’ His voice rose to a demented scream. ‘I am Set! I am reborn!’

Osir stared at him in horror. ‘What . . . what’s wrong with you?’ he gasped. ‘You’re not Set - I’m not Osiris! We - we are the sons of a baker, Sebak! Nobody has been reborn - it’s not real! I made it all up! You know that, you were there when I did it!’

‘When you invoke a god, you make that god real,’ said Shaban, suddenly chillingly calm. ‘You make them all real. Your followers worship you as Osiris, so you are Osiris. I am the brother of Osiris - so I am Set. I am the god of darkness, of chaos, of death - and it is my time to rule!’ ‘You’ve - you’ve gone mad!’ Osir spluttered. ‘What’s happened to you?’

The rage returned. ‘What’s happened to me? Only you could not know, Khalid! All our lives, you have been given everything, and I got nothing. You were the favourite son, I was the inferior. You tricked your way to fame and fortune, and I was forced into the army. You had money and women, and I was burned alive!’ He ripped at his shirt, exposing his chest. It was as hideously scarred as his face, the injuries extending down his body. ‘If Khaleel hadn’t pulled me out, I would have died. And did you even come to see me in hospital? No!’

‘Someone’s got big brother issues,’ Nina whispered to Eddie.

‘Someone’s got fucking lunatic issues,’ he whispered back.

‘I was . . . I was on location,’ Osir said in panicked apology. ‘I couldn’t get away.’

‘For two months?’ Shaban snarled. ‘No! I know what you were doing. You were travelling the world, having sex with whores!’

Osir still had some defiance in him. ‘Oh, now I see. It’s not the money or the fame that made you so jealous. It’s that the fire left you less of a man!’

The rage that flared inside Shaban was so fierce he couldn’t even speak. Instead, he smashed his brother’s face with his gun, sending a spurt of blood across the coffin lid. Macy gasped, and even Eddie flinched.

Osir slumped, clutching his head. Shaban forced his emotions back under control. ‘Get that out of there,’ he said to Diamondback, jabbing a finger at the mummy.

Diamondback and one of the troopers reached into the sarcophagus. Before Nina even had a chance to protest at the desecration, they hauled the body out of its recess and dumped it unceremoniously on the floor. The burial mask was jarred loose, the corpse’s wizened, eyeless face exposed.

Shaban aimed the gun at his brother. ‘Get in,’ he ordered.

Osir stared at him in pained bewilderment. ‘What?’

‘Into the sarcophagus! Now!’

‘Oh, my God,’ said Nina, as realisation struck her. ‘Khalid, he’s playing out the real story of Osiris and Set - how Set tricked Osiris into climbing into a coffin and sealed him in!’

Shaban smiled malevolently at her. ‘I’m glad someone knows the true story.’

‘You going to chop off his knob and feed it to a fish, too?’ Eddie asked.

‘I won’t need to cut him into fourteen pieces this time. My brother has no Isis to resurrect him.’ He looked back at Osir. ‘Get in.’

Osir stood firm. ‘The Osirian Temple won’t follow you, Sebak - they worship Osiris, not Set!’

‘You’re wrong, brother.’ Shaban proudly indicated the troopers. ‘While you were drinking and gambling and whoring, I was finding the true believers in the Temple, and you never even noticed. I did not need to be a movie star - strength and power brought them to my side. They have pledged themselves to me, and the rest will do the same . . . or pay the price.’

‘What price?’ Osir demanded.

‘Kralj and the other scientists have been working for me, not you. The yeast used to make the bread of Osiris can do more than give eternal life to those I decide are worthy. It can bring death to those who oppose me!’

Nina gave Eddie a worried look. ‘The lab, in Switzerland - they were talking about genetically modifying the yeast.’

‘That’s right, Dr Wilde,’ said Shaban. ‘The spores will be spread across the world by my followers. They will put them in crops, animal feed, even the water. Anyone who does not eat the bread of Set,’ a momentary smile of triumph at the new name, ‘anyone who will not worship their new god, will die as their own cells poison them.’

‘You’re insane,’ said Osir quietly. ‘And you wonder why Father preferred me?’

The mention of their father spurred Shaban back to anger. ‘Get in the coffin! Get in! Get in!’ He struck Osir again and again with the gun, then screamed an order. ‘Put him in there! Now!’

Four men grabbed the struggling Osir, forcing him into the recess. It was a good six inches too short to fit him, and narrower. He tried to pull free, but Shaban hammered the gun brutally down on to his chest. Osir writhed in pain, winded.

‘I am Set!’ Shaban shrieked. ‘And I am taking what is mine!’

He released the jacks.

Osir only managed a gasp of terror before the heavy metal lid fell with a thunderous whump . . . and a horrible crack of bones from his protruding feet and arms. Macy screamed and looked away. Blood gushed from the silver coffin.

Shaban continued to beat at the lid, denting the precious metal with his gun. ‘I am Set!’ he roared. ‘I am the god!’

‘No,’ said Nina, shocked and disgusted. ‘He was right. You are insane.’

He whipped round, finger quivering on the trigger as every tendon in his body tensed with fury—

But he didn’t fire.

‘Nina,’ Eddie said urgently, ‘if a guy with a gun says he’s a god . . . humour him!’

Shaban drew in a shuddering breath, then backed away. ‘No,’ he said, forcing himself to calm down. ‘No, my brother was right. This tomb should not be despoiled. Osiris is back in his coffin where he belongs. But you?’ He regarded Nina, Chase and Macy with contempt. ‘You don’t deserve to die in the tomb of a god.’ He moved round the sarcophagus. ‘Take them to the surface and shoot them,’ he told his men as he picked up the jackal-headed jar. ‘Where is the case?’

As Diamondback and the other troopers hustled Macy, Nina and Eddie to the entrance, one man turned to reveal that he was carrying a sturdy case made of impact-resistant composites on his back. He unfastened the harness clip on his chest and shrugged it off, then opened it to reveal a lining of thick yellow polyurethane ‘memory foam’. Shaban carefully pressed the jar into the bottom protective layer, then slowly lowered the lid until the catches clicked shut. ‘Guard it with your life, Hashem,’ he told the trooper. ‘Kralj, stay with him. Don’t let it out of your sight.’ The scientist nodded, waiting as Hashem donned the case and harness like a backpack.

Shaban turned to see Berkeley and Hamdi both still staring at the bloodied sarcophagus. ‘Gentlemen,’ he said. ‘I hope there is nothing wrong.’

‘Not at all,’ Hamdi bleated. ‘You have my full support, as always. I’ll make sure the SCA never learns about this place - it will be our secret. Your secret,’ he hurriedly corrected himself.

‘Good. And you, Dr Berkeley?’

‘Ah, I, er,’ Berkeley mumbled. ‘I’m . . . yeah. I’m on board.’

‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Shaban gave him a menacing smile. ‘Now, go back to the hovercraft. Leave this place for the dead.’ As Berkeley and Hamdi quickly made their exit, he stood before the sarcophagus. ‘Goodbye, my brother,’ he whispered, before turning to leave, returning the tomb to its state of eternal silence.

26

‘He’s completely insane,’ said Nina to Khaleel as the Egyptian officer strode up the passage ahead of her. ‘You can’t seriously believe he’s the reincarnation of Set.’

‘It doesn’t matter what I believe,’ Khaleel replied. ‘It matters what he believes - and he believes a great deal of money will repay the debt he owes me for saving his life. He’s also promised me a position of power if his plan succeeds - and if it doesn’t, then I am still rich. So I thought: why not?’

‘Because he’s a psychopath? If his plan works, millions of people will die!’

Khaleel shrugged. ‘We are always being warned of the dangers of overpopulation these days.’

The group came to a stop. After making their way back up through the pyramid, traversing the pit left by the Lady of Rainstorms on a rope attached to the ceiling by spring-loaded climbing cams, they had reached the top of the enormous vertical shaft. ‘What’re we going to do?’ Macy whispered with growing panic to Nina. ‘We’re almost at the surface, and - and they’re going to kill us!’

‘They’re not going to kill us,’ said Nina. ‘We’ll get out of this.’ But despite her defiant words, she felt as frightened as Macy inside. They were unarmed, outnumbered . . . and out of options. She looked back to Eddie, hoping to see some hint on his face that he had thought of a plan. But his expression was nothing but grim.

Everyone bunched up at the bottleneck. The trooper bearing the case, Hashem, was first on to the stone bridge. ‘Come on, hurry up,’ Shaban growled. Kralj gave him an uncertain look, then followed a few steps behind. Diamondback jabbed his gun at Nina and Macy. They hesitantly stepped on to the narrow crossing, the chain rattling with the extra weight. More troopers went after them.

About to step on to the bridge, Eddie stared at the chain - then his gaze snapped down to the cogwheel beside the beam.

And the piece of stone wedged beneath it.

‘Nina,’ he called, ‘remember when we came in?’ She looked back at him, as did Macy. ‘There’s gonna be a whole lotta shakin’ going on.’

Her eyes widened. ‘Macy, grab on!’ she cried—

Eddie kicked away the stone.

Freed at last, the weight of the large cylindrical block pulled the chain through the pulley - and turned the cogwheels.

Nina and Macy wrapped their arms round the bridge as the cogs’ teeth bashed at the protrusions on each side of the stone beam, making it jolt violently. Hashem, furthest from the pounding wheel, staggered, then dropped his gun and dived for the far ledge. He caught the edge, scrabbling for grip.

Kralj was not so lucky. Caught completely off guard, he plunged down the shaft with a terrified, echoing scream. Behind Macy, two troopers were thrown into the void, a third man desperately trying to hang on before he too disappeared into the darkness below.

The last man on the bridge managed to throw himself backwards, colliding with Eddie and Diamondback and sending the remainder of the group tumbling down the sloping passage. Eddie shoved the man off him and kicked Diamondback in the stomach. ‘Nina!’ he yelled as he jumped up. ‘Get across, get out!’

She was already edging forwards, Macy following. ‘What about you?’ Nina shouted back. ‘Come on!’

But his end of the bridge was rocking too forcefully for him to get on. Instead, he slammed a boot into the cultist’s stomach and looked for his gun. The MP7 had landed near the edge of the ledge. He lunged for it—

Diamondback’s revolver boomed. The American’s shot was wild - but it was close enough. The bullet ripped a fingertip-sized chunk of flesh out of Eddie’s muscular forearm. He roared in pain and clutched the wound, any thought of grabbing the gun forgotten as he wavered on the edge.

‘Eddie!’ Nina screamed.

‘Get out of here!’ he shouted. ‘Get the jar!’

She looked round, and saw Hashem clinging to the ledge a few feet away. The case was still on his back. She scrambled to solid ground and stood before the trooper. He had managed to pull his shoulders above the shaft’s lip, but with the bulky case affecting his centre of gravity he was having trouble finding enough purchase to climb higher.

‘Gimme the case and I’ll pull you up!’ Nina cried. She reached for the container, finding it was firmly attached to his equipment webbing. Thinking he wouldn’t be so dumb as to fight her from his precarious position, she pulled at it—

He grabbed her ankle.

‘You gotta be kidding me!’ she said.

He leered up at her and gripped her ankle with his other hand, getting enough leverage to twist her leg out from under her. She stumbled, landing on her backside. He clamped one hand round her calf.

Macy reached the end of the bridge and jumped up to kick at his arms. ‘Let her go!’

‘No, get the case!’ Nina said. She drew back her other foot, her eyes meeting the cultist’s. ‘Don’t make me do this.’

His only reply was a look of angry determination as he hauled himself higher, fingers digging painfully into her leg.

Her expression hardened. ‘Your choice.’

She smashed her boot into his face. Hashem’s head snapped back, and his hands slipped down her leg - then closed vice-like round her ankle once more, his weight pulling her towards the edge.

Macy grabbed the case, but couldn’t get it free of the webbing. She yanked at the straps, trying to release them.

Nina kicked again, the crack as his nose broke loud enough to be heard even over the booby-trap’s pounding. ‘Get!’ she yelled, punctuating each word with another strike. ‘Off! Me! You! Asshole!’

Even through his pain, Hashem clung with the strength of the fanatical. He kept wrenching at Nina’s leg, every tug bringing her closer to the vertiginous shaft.

Another kick, and one hand slipped free - only for him to reach to the webbing on his chest and pull a knife from a sheath, preparing to stab the blade into Nina’s leg—

She kicked him again.

Not in the face, but on his other hand.

The pain as her boot heel hit her shin was intense - but it was nothing compared to the snap of a broken finger. The knife clanged to the floor as the cultist finally screamed, whipping away as gravity pulled him over the edge . . . just as Macy released the clip securing the webbing. He slipped through the harness and vanished into the void, shrieking all the way down.

Macy fell on her butt, dropping the case at the edge of the shaft. Heart racing, Nina looked across the bucking bridge. Diamondback held the wounded Eddie at gunpoint as the rest of the group struggled upright.

Shaban would use Eddie as a hostage, she knew, forcing her to surrender the canopic jar in exchange for his life . . . then kill him anyway. The same would happen if she kicked the case into the shaft.

There was only one possible choice she could make. It was the same choice Eddie had made in a similar situation not long after they first met, only with the players reversed. If she wanted to save him . . .

She had to abandon him.

Leaping to her feet, she grabbed the fallen knife and yanked the case off the floor by its harness straps. ‘We gotta go!’

Macy stared at her in shock. ‘But Eddie—’

‘Run!’ Clutching the case, she sprinted into the passage. Macy gave Eddie a desperate look - then ran after Nina at the sight of guns coming up. Bullets blasted chunks out of the stonework behind her.

Shaban was red with rage. ‘Kill them! Kill them!’ he screamed, grabbing an MP7 from one of his men to unleash the remainder of the magazine himself. But the women were gone. With an incoherent scream of pure fury, he hurled the weapon to the floor so hard that its plastic handgrip cover shattered. Fists balled, he looked up and saw Eddie.

For a moment, the Englishman thought he was going to throw him off the ledge personally, before some semblance of self-control returned. ‘Shoot him!’ Shaban ordered. Diamondback grinned.

‘Sebak, wait!’ shouted Khaleel. Diamondback hesitated at the officer’s bark of authority as Shaban whipped round to glare at his unexpected challenger. ‘You can use him to bargain for the jar. She won’t destroy it as long as she thinks she can get him back.’

Shaban took several long, deep breaths, still shaking with volcanic anger. ‘You’re right,’ he finally said. ‘Thank you for stopping me, my friend.’

‘I always had your best interests in mind. And mine, of course,’ he added with a small smile.

‘So we’re not gonna kill him?’ Diamondback sounded disappointed.

‘Of course we are,’ Shaban growled. ‘When we have the jar.’

‘I’ll live to be a hundred, then,’ said Eddie, holding his wounded arm. ‘You’ll never catch her. She’ll get back to Abydos, tell the Egyptian government what’s happened . . . and then you, mate, will be fucked.’

‘I don’t think so.’ The faintest hint of amusement creased Shaban’s scarred face as the chain finally jolted to a stop. The remaining troopers rushed across the bridge. ‘You don’t know how we got here, do you?’

‘What the hell is that?’ Macy gasped as she and Nina climbed a ladder out of the pyramid and ran to the Land Rover, squinting in the brightness of the desert sun.

‘Bad news.’ About a hundred yards away was an enormous military hovercraft, its forward landing ramp lowered and gaping like a huge dull-witted mouth. Khaleel had provided Shaban with more than moral support. ‘But if we can get to the canyon, there’s no way it’ll be able to follow us.’ Nina climbed behind the wheel and put the case on the centre seat, shoving the knife back into the sheath on the harness.

Macy got in the other side. ‘But what about Eddie?’ she protested as Nina started the engine. ‘They’ll kill him - they might have killed him already!’

She backed away from the ruin, turning east. ‘As long as they think they can use him to get the jar back, they’ll keep him alive.’

‘And how long will they keep thinking that?’

‘Hopefully longer than it takes me to figure out how to rescue him!’

Less than happy with the answer, Macy checked the case for damage, then wrapped a seat belt round it to hold it in place. ‘Holy crap!’ she squeaked, seeing what else was attached to the webbing. ‘There are two hand grenades on this thing!’

‘Leave them alone,’ Nina cautioned.

‘But they’re jiggling about and banging against each other! What if they blow up?’

‘They’ll be fine as long as you don’t pull out the pins.’ She half smiled, remembering a time when Eddie had given her a similar lesson, then focused her attention on the empty plain ahead.

Shaban’s team exited the pyramid to find the Zubr’s pilot waiting. The man hastily explained the situation to Khaleel in Arabic before pointing eastwards. Eddie saw a dust trail heading into the shimmering distance. ‘Told you you wouldn’t catch her.’

‘My hovercraft can do forty knots over any terrain,’ Khaleel told him smugly, nodding towards the giant vehicle. ‘Can your truck do that?’

‘Maybe not, but can yours fit down a twenty-foot-wide ravine?’

‘It won’t need to,’ Diamondback drawled. ‘We got some other toys.’

Shaban gave an order, and the troopers raced for the Zubr. ‘We can still catch her,’ he told the others, gesturing for them to follow. A cruel, crooked smile for Eddie. ‘I’ll make sure you have a good view.’

They started towards the hovercraft, Diamondback prodding Eddie along with his revolver. They were about three-quarters of the way there when the roar of engines echoed from inside it. A pair of small vehicles exploded from the Zubr’s hold and flew down the ramp, landing in a spray of sand and snarling off in pursuit of the Land Rover. Eddie recognised them as Light Strike Vehicles - militarised dune buggies, little more than an open frame with four wheels, a powerful engine . . . and a machine gun, mounted on a turret above the driver. They weren’t attractive, or comfortable - but there was one thing he knew they definitely were, even over desert sand: fast.

Much faster than the Defender.

‘The chase begins,’ Shaban proclaimed. He gave Eddie another nasty smile. ‘A shame it won’t be a long one.’

They ascended the ramp. The Zubr’s hold was stark and utterly utilitarian, a metal box cavernous enough to accommodate three battle tanks or over three hundred fully equipped soldiers. At the moment, it was home to several dirty yellow excavators and earthmovers, as well as another dune buggy and pallets of equipment and supplies for desert operations. Eddie guessed the Osirian Temple had expected to do a lot more digging to find the pyramid.

Khaleel went to a control panel and called the bridge on a telephone handset. He issued a command. A few seconds later, a rising turbine whine echoed through the space as the Zubr’s main engines started, followed by louder buzzing rasps from the four massive lift fans behind the hold’s long bulkheads. The vessel wallowed as air was pumped into the skirt, lifting the hulking vehicle off the ground amidst a swirling cloud of sand.

Khaleel operated a control to raise the ramp. Hydraulics skirled, the metal wedge slamming shut with a reverberating bang. The wind died away, but if anything the noise became louder as the engines came to full power.

Diamondback scaled the ladder in the hold’s centre, and waited for Eddie to follow him up to the cramped superstructure. At the top, the American shoved him against a wall, pulling his arms behind his back. Eddie grunted at the pain from the bullet wound.

‘Shoulda done this in the pyramid,’ Diamondback drawled as he fastened his wrists together with a plastic zip-tie. ‘You’d have had a hard time gettin’ across that rope over the pit, but I woulda loved to watch you try.’

He pushed him towards a door. Eddie surreptitiously tested his restraints. They were too tight for him to slip loose, the plastic teeth digging into his skin. He needed to find another way to get free.

If there was one.

‘Uh-oh,’ said Macy, looking through the Land Rover’s rear window. ‘Dune buggy attack!’

Nina checked the mirror and saw two black shapes pounding through the desert after them. It only took a moment to see that they were gaining. Fast. She searched ahead for anything that might help. The desolate plain was devoid of anything but rippling sand dunes, the ravine still miles distant.

She glanced at the equipment webbing on the case. A knife and two grenades. Eddie could probably have MacGyvered some ingenious weapon out of them, but since she doubted the pursuing drivers would let her get within stabbing range, she was just left with throwing the grenades. And if they saw her doing so, to escape they only had to turn away . . .

The idea that came to her was so simple it seemed almost ridiculous. But it was their only hope.

If she could pull it off.

She scanned the desert again, more urgently. She needed a big enough dune—

Macy shrieked and ducked as a line of bullet impacts raked across the sand, kicking up dusty little geysers as they homed in on the Land Rover. Nina slid low in her seat, turning the wheel - but not quickly enough. The rear window shattered and holes ripped open in the Defender’s aluminium sides.

Another crackle of gunfire as the second gunner joined in. Burning orange lines of tracer fire streaked past as Nina changed direction again. She knew she couldn’t stay out of their sights for long—

More metal shredded as another burst of bullets stabbed through the bodywork. The windscreen cracked, the window beside Nina blowing out as a tracer round seared through the cabin. A couple of inches lower and it would have hit her in the head.

She spun the wheel, the Land Rover almost tipping over as it slewed through the sand. A pair of holes exploded in the back of the centre seat just above the case. Macy screamed.

Nina straightened out, the LSVs turning to follow. She looked ahead. There was a dune, a long, languid zigzag with an angular wind-carved ridge running along it. Perfect - if they could reach it . . .

Mirror. One of the buggies was about two hundred yards directly behind, following their tracks. ‘Take the wheel!’ Nina shouted.

Macy stared in disbelief. ‘What?’

‘Take over, drive!’ She gestured for her to slide across.

Macy did so. ‘What are you doing?’

Nina jammed her left foot on the accelerator and hoisted herself up to climb over Macy. She saw in the mirror that the nearer LSV was accelerating, closing the gap to get an unmissable shot. The other buggy stopped firing so as not to hit its comrade. ‘Just put your foot on the gas and grab the wheel,’ she said. Macy complied, awkwardly squeezing under her. ‘I’ve got an idea!’

In the Zubr’s weapons room, Eddie looked over the weapons officer’s shoulder to watch the chase playing out on the monitor screens.

A chase that was almost over. The Zubr’s fire control computers displayed the range, bearing and speed of all three vehicles beside the cursors tracking them, and the distance in metres of the lead LSV was rapidly catching up to that of Nina’s Land Rover.

Shaban, beside him, banged a fist on a console as the lead buggy fired again. ‘The driver!’ he shouted at the weapons officer. ‘Tell them to aim for the driver! We can’t risk hitting the jar!’

The seated man relayed the order. ‘Is the box bulletproof?’ Hamdi asked nervously.

‘Against a handgun bullet, it should be,’ Khaleel told him. ‘A machine gun . . . I don’t know.’

‘You’ll have to check it when we recover it, Hamdi,’ said Shaban. A dismissive glance at Berkeley. ‘Dr Berkeley’s hands are too shaky, I think.’

Eddie looked at Berkeley, who was in a corner, pale and sickened. ‘Having second thoughts, are you?’ he said coldly. ‘Not such a laugh when it’s someone you know who’s getting shot at. Still, hey, least you’re getting paid!’

‘Keep your mouth shut,’ said Diamondback, shoving him against a console.

On the screen, the Land Rover drove up a dune, the LSV closing with the gunner taking careful aim . . .

Nina climbed into the back of the Land Rover, taking one of the grenades with her. ‘Go straight!’ she ordered Macy as she scrambled to the rear door. ‘Tell me just before we reach the top.’

‘What are you doing?’ Macy demanded, looking back - and seeing the buggy quickly gaining as the Defender slowed on the incline. She planted both feet on the accelerator.

‘Just tell me!’ Nina peered through the broken rear window. The first LSV was still roaring along in their tracks, less than three hundred feet behind, two fifty . . .

She gripped the door handle for support, her other thumb through the ring attached to the grenade’s pin. ‘Come on, come on,’ she said, watching the dune buggy close the gap. It was near enough for her to make out the driver’s and gunner’s faces, leering expectantly as they prepared for the kill. ‘Come on—’

‘We’re at the top!’ Macy cried.

Nina jerked her thumb, pulling out the pin - and the spring-loaded spoon popped off the grenade, arming its fuse.

She hoped it was the five-second type . . .

The Land Rover lurched, reaching the top of the dune and ploughing through its ridge. The LSV dropped out of sight behind the crest.

Nina reached through the broken window - and dropped the grenade into the Land Rover’s tracks.

She rolled down the cargo bed to hit the seat backs as the 4×4 slithered downhill, picking up speed. She didn’t know if the rear door would protect her, but it was all she had . . .

The LSV burst over the crest of the dune, engine howling - and landed right on top of the grenade as it exploded.

The buggy was launched back into the air, flipping end over end amid an eruption of grit and razor-sharp shrapnel. It hit the ground upside-down, driving the gun turret and its lacerated occupant into the sand like a tent peg.

Nina uncovered her ears and looked back. The LSV was a burning wreck - but the second buggy was still very much in the game, vaulting over the top of the dune.

And her trick wouldn’t work twice.

27

Shaban stared at the pillar of smoke rising on the monitor. ‘What happened? What was that?’

‘That,’ said Eddie, grinning, ‘was my wife.’

The Egyptian’s face tightened, and he punched Eddie in the stomach. ‘Go after them!’ he yelled to the pilots in the bridge, before turning back to the weapons officer. ‘Tell them to aim only at the driver. If they destroy the jar, I’ll kill them myself!’ The officer, glad that he worked for Khaleel and not Shaban, relayed the instructions.

Everyone lurched as the hovercraft turned to follow the Land Rover. ‘Full speed!’ Shaban bellowed. ‘Catch them!’

Climbing back into the front seats, Nina saw the LSV rapidly gaining, following a parallel course. The buggy had a clear shot - but something was staying the gunner’s finger. ‘They’re not shooting.’

‘You make that sound like a bad thing,’ Macy complained.

‘It will be in a minute,’ she realised. ‘They’re trying to get closer - so they won’t just be shooting at the truck, they’ll be shooting at us!’

‘Oh, great! I love the personal touch!’

Nina spotted the hovercraft powering after them, but ignored it. There was a much closer threat. The LSV drew level, machine gun at the ready as it angled towards them, narrowing the gap—

The Land Rover and the LSV were side by side on the targeting monitor. The weapons operator nudged a joystick. The cursor over Nina and Macy’s vehicle turned red, the radar automatically tracking the 4×4.

Eddie forced himself to look away, at the room’s other occupants. Shaban’s eyes were fixed on the monitor with eager anticipation, while Diamondback’s expression suggested that he was watching a game of American football, waiting for his team’s quarterback to break through the lines and score a touchdown. Hamdi appeared pensive, and Berkeley’s head was turned, as if he were unwilling to observe the results of his choice of sides. Khaleel and the weapons officer both watched with professional detachment.

Which meant . . . nobody was watching him.

With his hands secured behind his back, the others didn’t consider him a threat - and the weapons room’s cramped confines had forced Diamondback to lower his gun as everyone crowded round the monitors.

He glanced sidelong once more at Diamondback before making his move—

No matter what Macy did, the Land Rover wasn’t quick or agile enough to escape the Light Strike Vehicle. The buggy was less than a hundred feet away, still closing, the gunner lining up the M-60 machine gun on the driver . . .

The LSV’s gunner was a silhouette against the desert on the screen. He took aim, body language shifting as he prepared to fire—

Eddie clenched his hands together - and shoved himself backwards against Diamondback, slamming his fists into the American’s groin.

Before anyone else could react, he smashed a knee into the side of the weapon’s officer’s head, bowling him from his chair. He whipped round and pushed the joystick with his bound hands - then spun back and banged his forehead down on one set of buttons.

The firing controls for the Zubr’s AK-630 Gatling guns.

He had switched the targeting cursor from the Land Rover to the LSV when he hit the joystick - and now both the Dalek-like turrets on the broad main deck obediently locked on to their new prey.

And fired.

Even inside the windowless weapons room the noise of the guns was almost painful, an earsplitting chainsaw rasp as both six-barrelled weapons spat out over eighty 30mm explosive shells every second. The storm of metal didn’t merely wreck the LSV - it obliterated it, the buggy and its occupants shredded as the AK-630s kept blasting, waiting for human confirmation that their target had been destroyed.

It took several seconds to arrive as Eddie kicked and struggled, trying to keep the room in chaos for as long as possible. Diamondback finally flung him against a console, cracking his head on the metal. The guns’ piercing buzz stopped as the dazed weapons officer slapped a hand on the controls.

Diamondback pulled Eddie upright, shoving his revolver under his chin - only to jerk it away as Shaban smashed several punches into the defenceless Englishman’s face, shrieking with frustrated fury. He delivered a final blow to Eddie’s stomach, then threw him through the doorway to collapse on the bridge’s deck.

The Egyptian stormed after him, kicking him in the chest before jabbing a hand at the windows. ‘Follow them!’

Macy gawped at the blazing wreckage of the LSV. ‘What the hell was that?’

‘Eddie!’ Nina looked back at the hovercraft with a surge of new hope. He was still alive!

That the Zubr’s guns hadn’t simply been turned on the Land Rover proved that Shaban was determined not to damage the canopic jar. Which gave her a chance to rescue her husband.

A small chance - but she had to take it.

‘Turn us around,’ she said. Macy looked at her uncomprehendingly. ‘Turn round, go for the hovercraft!’

‘Are you nuts?’ Macy gasped. ‘Didn’t you see what just happened to that buggy? I’ve got thongs that are bigger than what’s left of it!’

‘They won’t shoot at us.’ I hope, she didn’t add. ‘Go on, go back!’

Macy unhappily brought the Land Rover round in a sweeping curve. ‘You know how I thought you were really smart? Hope I wasn’t wrong.’

Nina ignored her, trying to assemble all the pieces of her makeshift plan of action. She regarded the grenade, the sheathed knife - then unfastened the case’s clasps.

‘Now what’re you doing?’ Macy demanded.

Nina opened the case to reveal the jar nestling in its bed of memory foam. Without the lid’s pressure holding it down, the jar rose as the lower block returned to its original shape. She drew the knife and sawed away one corner of the foam, ending up with a ragged cube four inches to a side, then closed the case. ‘Evening the odds.’

‘They’re coming back at us,’ reported the Zubr’s pilot.

‘What?’ Shaban glared through the bridge windows. The Land Rover was indeed heading straight for the hovercraft. ‘She’s going to attack us!’

‘With what?’ asked Khaleel.

‘The grenades she took from Hashem!’

The pilot made a sarcastic sound. ‘A grenade won’t hurt us. The hull’s armoured - the most she could do is tear the skirt, and that’s compartmentalised. It would only deflate one section, not the whole thing.’

‘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 lever, 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 room. 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!’

Khaleel hesitated, then went to the hatch as Diamondback ran to the starboard wing bridge and looked out.

Nina was on the deck below by the lift fan. Just as he snapped up his gun, she saw him and ran. A bullet twanged off the foot-high lip of the circular air intake behind her.

The deck was a blank expanse of metal, the only cover the Gatling gun’s turret towards the bow - and she would never reach it before being shot in the back.

Only one way to go . . .

She dived for the railing at the deck’s edge as Diamondback fired again. The shot cracked off the floor, spitting paint chips at her face as she rolled under the railing and slammed down on the narrow walkway below. Another bullet zipped past; she pushed herself painfully back into cover.

Diamondback lost sight of her. ‘Shit!’ he hissed, running for the stairs.

On the port wing bridge, Khaleel looked down at the gaping vent of the smashed lift fan. He saw Eddie, grabbed for his holstered gun—

Skin blistering, Eddie pressed the metal harder against the tie. He felt it give, the plastic stretching, then snapping. He jumped up - and caught movement in his peripheral vision, someone aiming a weapon on the jutting balcony above.

Instinct and training kicked in. He flung the lump of metal upwards, running for the stern as a startled cry confirmed that he’d scored a hit. If he could round the superstructure before Khaleel recovered, he would be temporarily safe—

Shots!

Bullets spanged from the deck, cutting off his escape route. He dived beside the aft lift fan, scrambling round the intake in a desperate attempt to find cover. But it was too low to shield him. Khaleel lined up his sights on the half-exposed figure, and squeezed the trigger.

The bullet flew at Eddie - then suddenly veered downwards, sucked into the huge fan. Eddie raised his head, feeling the powerful suction of air being pulled into the shaft. As long as the vortex was between the two men, Khaleel had no chance of hitting him.

The general realised it at the same moment. He jumped down to the main deck. Eddie scrambled round to make a run for the superstructure, but Khaleel already had his gun back up, covering the gap as he advanced.

He was trapped.

Groaning at the pain from her hard landing, Nina struggled upright and saw she was close to the hatch through which she had first entered the hovercraft. Someone had unlocked it, the heavy door swinging lazily.

She checked that the passage was empty, then entered. The crew quarters were also unoccupied; she went to the bed where she had hidden the canopic jar after booby-trapping the case. With Eddie free, she now had all the cards - once they were both safely off the Zubr, she could destroy the jar’s contents and end any hope Shaban still cherished of carrying out his insane plan.

All she had to do was find Eddie.

Still charging across the desert towards the canyon, Macy looked back at the pursuing hovercraft - and was startled to find it was no longer behind her. It had angled away to one side. Something had gone badly wrong - the massive craft was trailing smoke, on fire near its stern.

Nina and Eddie, she knew. Their kind of chaos.

But there was no sign that they had got off the speeding giant. And, she realised, if the hovercraft stayed on its new course it would miss the canyon and continue across the plain.

To the high cliffs at its far end.

‘Oh, crap,’ she gasped.

Berkeley staggered on to the bridge, looking in horror at the pilots’ shrapnel-torn bodies. ‘Jesus! What happened?’

‘Never mind,’ said Shaban. ‘We’ve got to find Wilde - and the jar.’ He had already deduced that she couldn’t have rigged the grenade until after boarding the hovercraft - the risk of the spoon’s being jolted loose when she jumped from the 4×4 would have been too great. Which meant . . . ‘She must have hidden it. Come on.’

‘I, ah . . .’ The archaeologist couldn’t tear his gaze from the corpses. ‘I don’t feel too good.’

Shaban shoved him against the bulkhead. ‘If you want to stay alive, you’ll do what I tell you,’ he snarled, pulling him to the stairwell.

Still hunched behind the lift fan, Eddie glanced over the edge of the deck to look for an escape route. No luck. Wind-whipped flames from the damaged engine room were lashing from a hatch forward of his position, the heat and toxic smoke cutting the walkway off from the rest of the vessel.

Khaleel jogged towards him, automatic raised. In seconds, he would have a clear line of fire. Eddie didn’t have many options left - but any action was better than waiting to get shot.

He ran for the stern. The three huge propellers towered above him, blades a buzzing blur inside their circular shrouds. He might find cover behind the pylons supporting the engine nacelles, even a way back inside the ship to search for Nina . . .

Too slow. Khaleel cleared the lift fan, taking aim—

A shrill, ululating siren blasted from the superstructure. Someone had finally decided that the engine room blaze was out of control and sounded the alarm to abandon the hovercraft. The piercing wail made Khaleel flinch as he fired. The bullet seared past Eddie, close enough for him to feel its heat.

The gun’s slide locked back. Out of ammo. The Egyptian reached for a fresh magazine, but Eddie was already charging at him. Not enough time to reload—

Instead, his hand went to another weapon.

Eddie jerked to a stop as Khaleel jabbed a knife at his chest. The soldier struck again, slashing at his face. Eddie tried to grab his wrist - but he turned the blade to slice through Eddie’s sleeve into his already wounded forearm.

The Englishman pulled away in pain, and took a vicious kick to his stomach. Winded, he stumbled backwards, crashing against something at waist height.

The bottom of the propeller shroud.

Eddie swayed back, his head almost sucked into the giant blades. He shoved himself away - as Khaleel stabbed the knife at his heart—

He grabbed the other man’s arm, arresting the attack just before the tip pierced his chest, but the force of Khaleel’s charge drove him back against the shroud. The gale whipping round them forced both men to squint, eyes fixed on the knife.

Khaleel forced it towards his opponent’s throat, the double wound to Eddie’s forearm weakening his hold. He tried to push it away, but the most he could manage was to twist it to one side. The tip dug into his jacket - then cut deeper as Khaleel forced the knife down.

Eddie cried out as the point ground against his collarbone. Khaleel grinned and pushed even harder, leaning closer—

Eddie whipped his head forward. He wasn’t at the right angle to score a solid blow with a headbutt - but instead he clamped his jaws tightly shut on Khaleel’s nose.

The general screeched, pulling out the knife as he tried to draw back, but Eddie had too firm a hold. There was a hideous wet scrunch of cartilage as he ground his teeth. With both nostrils crushed shut, the only place the sudden gush of blood could go was into Khaleel’s throat. Choking, he spat blood across Eddie’s chest, the knife all but forgotten in his desperation to escape the pain.

Eddie refused to let go, worrying the flesh like a terrier. There was another revolting squish - then Khaleel lurched back, a bloodied hole where the end of his nose had been. Eddie spat the chunk of gristle into his eye, then with a roar shoved the Egyptian’s arm over his shoulder.

Into the propeller.

There was a clang as the knife was knocked out of the soldier’s hand - followed by a swat as his forefinger was sliced off at the first knuckle, exposing a jagged spike of bone. Khaleel screamed. Eddie slammed two powerful blows into his stomach, following them with an uppercut that sent him reeling.

They were right by the side railing. The quickest way to end the fight would be to toss the Egyptian overboard—

He seized Khaleel - and was almost blinded as the other man unexpectedly struck back, stabbing at Eddie’s eye with the end of his severed finger. Sharp bone slashed across his eyebrow as he jerked his head away.

The finger stabbed again, cutting his cheek - and Khaleel’s other hand clamped round his throat, tendons tight as metal cables. He spat out more blood and a foul Arabic curse. With one arm wounded, Eddie needed both hands to avoid getting the finger in a horribly literal way, giving Khaleel the chance to push him back towards the propeller.

‘I’ll kill you!’ Khaleel gargled, eyes bulging with demented fury. ‘I’ll kill you, and my dogs will eat your balls, and then I’ll fuck your wife before I—’

Eddie let go with one hand, taking the spear of bone across his temple as Khaleel overpowered his wounded arm - and swept up his good arm between the Egyptian’s legs to grab him by the crotch. Khaleel’s eyes bulged even wider as, with his own rage-powered burst of strength, Eddie flung him upwards.

The gale-force suction dragged him in. Khaleel’s skull was instantly pulped by the rapidly spinning blades, a red mist painting the inside of the metal shroud. The headless body slid back down over Eddie and slumped to the deck.

Eddie lowered himself out of the wind. ‘Keep your head, mate - oops, too late,’ he wheezed, checking the corpse. The Egyptian had holstered his gun after kicking him; he drew it, taking an extra magazine and reloading the weapon.

Wiping blood from his face, he looked round. Some of the crew were on the deck, but none were interested in him or their late commanding officer; they were instead attempting to get off the runaway hovercraft. One man climbed over the railing, trying to slide down the skirt to the ground - but instead he bounced off it, cartwheeling into the dust storm at a neck-breaking angle. His comrades decided they needed a new plan and hurried back into the ship.

Hefting the gun, Eddie searched for his own way inside.

Macy was just about keeping pace with the hovercraft - but through the heat haze she could now see a distinct line cutting across the landscape ahead.

The cliff.

The Zubr was only minutes from destruction.

She had seen people on the deck, but none was Eddie or Nina. ‘Come on,’ she said, bringing the Land Rover closer, ‘get off that thing!’

Clutching the canopic jar, Nina looked into the hold, and saw to her horror that a fire was spreading from a door at its port-side rear. Several men were in the large space, keeping well away from the flames as one operated a control panel. The front and rear ramps lowered, the gritty rush of wind through the hold sweeping the smoke out of the stern - but also fanning the fire.

One man ran towards the hold’s rear. Jumping out of the hovercraft’s stern offered more chance of survival - were it not for the blaze. The ramp was narrower than the hold, offset to port, and the growing flames were whipping down it. The crewman shielded his face - then sprinted for the square of daylight.

He mistimed it. A swirling gust of fire swept from the hatchway, setting him alight. The burning figure’s limbs flailed as he vanished into the sandstorm.

The remaining men were no happier with the forward escape route. One brave - or foolish - soldier took a running jump off the ramp, trying to reach the skirt and climb along it to the side. The reactions of the others made it clear that he wasn’t successful. But faced with a choice between slipping off and being dragged under the enormous vessel or the fire, they opted to take their chances, leaping from the ramp one by one.

The last man gone, Nina entered the hold, moving to the dune buggy to check its restraining straps. If she could untether it, maybe it would be fast enough to drive out of the rear ramp without catching fire . . .

She heard feet clanking down the ladder. No time to return to the hatch. She scrambled underneath the earthmover behind the buggy, peering out to see Shaban and Berkeley descend into the hold. ‘Find the jar,’ Shaban ordered, gesturing sternwards.

Berkeley baulked. ‘There’s a big fire back there.’

‘Then don’t walk into it! Check the bulldozers, see if she hid it inside one of them. Or underneath.’

‘What about you?’ Berkeley asked as Shaban went to the dune buggy.

‘This is our way off. Go on, search!’

Nina tensed, but to her relief Berkeley went to one of the earthmovers on the other side of the hold. She slithered to the rear of the machine she was hiding under. There was another open hatch not far away - if she could reach it without being seen . . .

The fire was growing, grease and spilled oil on the deck catching light. Berkeley finished his examination of the first bulldozer and moved to the one behind it.

The door was about fifteen feet away. Twisting to look back, she spotted Shaban’s feet by the buggy as he released the last strap.

He was facing away from her. She might be able to reach the door if she moved now - and if Berkeley didn’t see her.

The archaeologist had climbed up to check the cab, his back to her.

This was her chance.

She slid out, about to dart for the door when Berkeley hopped down - and turned.

He saw her.

Their eyes met across the hold. Nina froze. One word from him would alert the cult leader . . .

The word didn’t come.

Berkeley blinked, then his expression became studiously blank. He turned away, searching the bulldozer’s cab for a second time.

Nina gave him silent thanks, then got ready to run—

‘What is it?’ Shaban shouted, making both Nina and Berkeley flinch. He had seen the scientist’s moment of indecision.

‘I-I’m not sure,’ Berkeley stuttered, but Shaban was already striding towards her position.

She jumped up and held the jar above her head. ‘Don’t move! I’ll smash it!’

Shaban stopped, holding out his hands. ‘Give it to me, Dr Wilde.’

‘I don’t think so!’ She backed away, looking over her shoulder at the spreading fire. ‘How about we bake your bread, huh?’

‘No!’ He advanced another step, torn between the urge to retrieve the canopic jar and the fear of its being destroyed. ‘Give it to me and - and I’ll let you live.’

Nina kept retreating. ‘What, so you can use it to kill millions of people? No way. This ends here, asshole.’

His eyes flicked away from her to the hold’s side wall. ‘You’re right. It does.’

‘Nina!’ Berkeley cried in warning - too late.

Diamondback dived from the open hatch, tackling Nina. The jar was jolted from her hands as they hit the deck. He just managed to get his grasping fingertips underneath it to stop it from smashing, but couldn’t hold on to it. The jar rolled towards the fire - then clanked to a stop against one of the cargo rings.

Shaban let out a deep breath as he realised the jar was safe. He started for it. ‘Kill her,’ he snapped.

‘My pleasure,’ said Diamondback. He pulled Nina’s head up by her ponytail, reaching into his snakeskin jacket with his other hand to draw his gun—

Everyone looked round as another door flew open.

Eddie jumped through, Khaleel’s weapon in his hands. He immediately locked it on to the biggest threat, Diamondback - but the American yanked Nina higher, making her cry out in pain as he used her as a human shield. Shaban hurriedly took cover behind the nearest earthmover. Berkeley did the same on the other side of the hold, cowering in one of the lowered scoops.

‘Eddie,’ Nina gasped, horrified by the amount of blood on his face and clothes. ‘Oh, my God . . .’

‘Hi, love,’ he said, before shifting his gaze to Diamondback. ‘You. Puff Adder. You’ve got to the count of three to let her go.’

Diamondback pressed his revolver against Nina’s head. ‘And you’ve got to the count of two to drop that piece.’

‘Eddie, shoot the jar!’ Nina said. He glanced sideways and spotted the canopic jar. ‘If you destroy it, they’ve got nothing!’

‘Do that and she dies, Chase!’ shouted Shaban, signalling for his bodyguard to hold his fire - for now. In response, Diamondback pulled Nina to her knees, still crouching behind her as he forced her to shuffle away from Eddie.

Eddie tracked them with the gun, slowly following. It was a stand-off; Diamondback knew that if he killed Nina he would die a second later, but Eddie couldn’t take a shot without risking hitting her. All he could do was watch as they backed up until they were close to the open door.

‘Sebak!’ the American called. ‘Are the keys in that bulldozer?’

Shaban immediately understood what he was thinking and moved to the earthmover’s cab, keeping low to stay out of Eddie’s line of fire. He leaned inside. The starter motor chattered, then the diesel engine rumbled to life.

‘Whatever you’re doing, fuckin’ pack it in,’ Eddie warned, but he was unable to do anything to stop them. Diamondback, still holding the gun to Nina’s head, fumbled in a pocket for a zip-tie. He threaded it through a cargo ring and loosely pushed the end into the fastener, then grabbed Nina’s hand and forced it into the plastic loop before yanking it as tight as it would go.

Nina gasped as the tie’s toothed inner face chewed deeply into her wrist. She was firmly secured to the ring, her arm bent back painfully. ‘You ain’t goin’ anywhere,’ Diamondback drawled in her ear.

Shaban, meanwhile, had figured out the basics of the earthmover’s controls. He pulled a lever to raise the dogtoothed front scoop higher off the deck, then wedged a large spanner from a toolbox against the gas pedal. The engine roared, its exhaust pipe spewing out oily brown smoke, but the machine didn’t move. It wasn’t in gear.

Yet.

He looked up - and saw something through the open front ramp. The line of the cliff-edge ahead. Less than a mile away.

The Zubr would reach it in under two minutes.

Eddie looked between Diamondback and Shaban, the horrible realisation of their plan dawning. He now had a clear shot at the cult leader - but switching his aim would give Diamondback the moment he needed to whip his gun round and shoot him.

The jar—

It rattled against the ring, about the same distance away as Nina.

Shaban saw him look. ‘Which do you choose, Chase? Stop me, or save your wife? You can only do one!’

He jammed the stick into the lowest reverse gear - and jumped clear as the bulldozer lurched backwards.

It moved less than a foot before crashing to a stop as the chains securing it to the deck snapped taut. But the restraints were designed only to keep it in place while the hovercraft was in motion, not to withstand the force of several hundred horsepower. Steel tracks screeching horribly over the floor, the excavator started to tear itself free, the cargo rings creaking and squealing.

Diamondback held his place behind Nina, one eye on the snarling vehicle twelve feet away. ‘Well, go ahead!’ he shouted to Eddie. ‘It’s your move.’

Eddie glanced at the jar. Could he kick it into the fire before the bulldozer broke free?

But if it came to a choice, he knew there was only one he could make—

A ring snapped. The extra stress on the remaining restraints was too much, and less than a second later they shattered. The bulldozer ground backwards.

Towards Nina.

Diamondback rolled away from her, throwing himself to the far side of the bulldozer. Eddie fired, but both shots clanged uselessly off the machine.

He ran to Nina, who was desperately trying to free her arm.

The earthmover continued its inexorable advance, five feet away, four. Eddie knew there was no way she could get her hand loose in time - and instead jammed his gun against the metal ring.

He pulled the trigger. The bullet severed the tie, ricocheting off the ring and knocking the gun from his hand. The muzzle flame burned Nina’s arm. She screamed, but he had already pulled her back as the earthmover ran over the dented ring.

They rolled clear as the hulking machine rumbled past, but the danger wasn’t over. Shaban raced past for the canopic jar. Diamondback was a few paces behind him, gun raised. Eddie looked for his own weapon—

It vanished under the bulldozer’s track with a crunch of flattening metal.

He hauled Nina with him round the rear of the crawling machine. Diamondback fired, the shot tearing a chunk from the yellow bodywork. The American was about to run after them when he realised there was a shortcut, and jumped up to climb into the cab—

Eddie was already there.

He made a diving tackle over the seat, and both men crashed to the deck. The revolver clattered across the floor.

Shaban reached the jar and snatched it up, feeling a moment of pure relief as he saw it was undamaged and still sealed. He ran back to the dune buggy. Berkeley looked out from his hiding place; the cult leader scowled at him, making him cringe back.

Eddie punched Diamondback - with his injured arm, causing himself almost as much pain as he delivered. The American realised something was wrong and clawed at his adversary’s forearm, fingers digging into the bullet wound. Eddie screamed, jerking back and giving Diamondback the chance to kick him away. The bulldozer rolled past them.

Nina climbed into the machine’s cab. She kicked the spanner off the accelerator and shoved the gearstick into neutral, the bulldozer clanking to a stop just short of the spreading fire at the back of the hold. In front of the earthmover she saw Diamondback smash an elbow down on Eddie’s chest, beyond them Shaban climbing into the dune buggy - and through the gaping forward ramp . . .

The cliff!

Diamondback hit Eddie in the ribs again, then sprang up to find his gun. It was in front of the bulldozer. He grabbed it and straightened, turning to shoot Eddie—

And froze as the dune buggy peeled away with a screech of tyres. Shaban was at the wheel, clutching the canopic jar to his chest. ‘Sebak!’ the American yelled, voice lost amongst the roar of wind and machinery. ‘Wait!’

Eddie sat up. Diamondback snapped out of his shock at being abandoned and took aim—

Nina slammed the bulldozer into gear.

It jerked forward - and its scoop hit the American hard in his back. His gun flew from his hand and landed in the steel bucket. He reeled towards Eddie - then lurched backwards as a fist ploughed into his face.

Eddie hit him again and again. Diamondback spat out blood. Eddie wound up and smashed an uppercut into his chin that knocked the other man off his feet against the scoop’s edge, the metal teeth ripping through the back of his snakeskin jacket.

Diamondback wasn’t finished, though. He saw his gun, groped for it—

And was hauled into the air as Nina raised the scoop.

His weight pulled the jacket tightly over the steel teeth, leaving him hanging helplessly. He tried to shrug off the garment, but couldn’t get his arms free.

Eddie drove one last punch into his stomach as the bulldozer stopped, then looked towards the bow.

Shaban drove the dune buggy off the ramp.

The rugged off-roader hit the ground hard, slamming the Egyptian against his seatbelt. He just barely managed to keep the vehicle under control with one hand as he gripped the jar. For a moment the Zubr gained on him, the ramp’s jutting edge like a huge shovel blade about to scoop up the buggy . . . then he pulled away, making a hard turn to one side. The hovercraft blasted past him.

Heading straight for the cliff.

Macy saw the dune buggy swing away, and realised who was driving.

If Shaban had escaped, then where were Nina and Eddie? Were they—

No. She refused to accept the possibility. They hadn’t given up on her; she wasn’t going to give up on them.

Jaw set, she dropped down a gear and pushed the accelerator to its limit. The temperature gauge was in the red, the elderly Land Rover overheating, but it still began to overtake the hovercraft.

Nina ran to Eddie. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked, taking in his multiple injuries.

‘Nothing a month in the Maldives won’t fix,’ he rasped, gripping his arm to stop the bleeding. Ignoring the impotently kicking and swearing Diamondback, he surveyed the hold, seeing the hatch leading to the starboard engineering compartment. ‘We’ve got to stop this thing. Maybe we could chuck something in the engine—’

‘There isn’t time!’ Nina cried, jabbing a finger at the front ramp. ‘We’re gonna go over a cliff!’

‘What? Shit!’ His search became more desperate. The fire at the rear ramp was now a swirling inferno, and if they tried to jump off from the bow the hovercraft would mow them down.

No way out—

A crash of metal made them whirl - to see the battered Land Rover lurch backwards up the front ramp. Macy had driven directly in front of the Zubr, then braked hard, to be swallowed up like a minnow by a whale. The 4×4 skidded as she slammed on the brakes, slewing round to face them.

Macy sat up, dazed, then her rattled expression became one of delight as she saw Nina and Eddie. ‘Come on!’ she shouted. ‘Get in!’

They ran for the bullet-pocked Defender. ‘Logan!’ called Nina. ‘Move your ass!’ Berkeley emerged from his hiding place and scurried for the Land Rover. They all piled in.

Through the bow, Eddie saw the edge of the cliff for the first time, rushing towards them. Too close for the Land Rover to get clear. ‘The rear ramp, go!’ he yelled.

‘It’s on fire!’ Berkeley protested.

‘Just go!’

Macy slammed the Land Rover into gear and drove the 4×4 between the two ranks of heavy equipment. She saw the whipping flames. ‘Jesus!’

‘Go through it!’ cried Eddie. Diamondback was still hanging from the earthmover’s scoop, but had twisted round enough to reach his gun. ‘Go!’

Diamondback aimed the revolver at the Land Rover’s driver as the vehicle charged towards him—

Fear paralysed his trigger finger. He had been so intent on recovering his gun that he hadn’t seen the approaching cliff - until now.

He overcame his shock and fired, but a fraction of a second too late. The bullet punched through the Land Rover’s roof above Macy’s head. The Defender surged past him.

Nina looked back. ‘We’re not gonna make it!’ The Land Rover was designed for endurance, not acceleration.

‘We’ll make it,’ said Eddie, gripping her tightly. They passed the last earthmover, flames swelling ahead as Macy angled for the ramp. ‘Although I think we should duck!’

They dropped as low as they could as the Land Rover drove into the blaze, tongues of fire licking hungrily through the broken windows.

They hit the ramp—

The Zubr reached the cliff.

A huge blast of escaping air swept sand and stones off the rockface as the skirt vented into the void below. Its support gone, the hovercraft’s bow dropped, the massive vehicle jolting violently as the bottom of its hull ground against the lip of stone. Still driven onwards by its three huge propellers, it balanced like a see-saw - before tipping over the point of no return. Everything inside it that was not lashed down slid forwards . . .

Including the bulldozer on which Diamondback was pinned.

He screamed as the earthmover screeched down the hold. The machine shot out into the open, plunging at the ground with Diamondback trapped on the scoop like a shrieking hood ornament.

Thirty tons of steel smashed down at the base of the cliff - followed by over five hundred tons of metal as the hovercraft landed on top of it. The Zubr exploded with earth-shaking force, a burning mushroom cloud roiling upwards.

Towards the Land Rover.

The 4×4 hadn’t gained enough speed to cancel out the hovercraft’s forward momentum as it flew out of the stern, and it skidded backwards to crunch to a halt with its rear wheels over the edge of the cliff. The front wheels spun uselessly, lifted off the ground as the back end dipped . . .

Though half stunned by the hard landing, Nina realised the danger - and threw herself against the dashboard.

The shift of weight was just enought to bring the Defender’s front end back down, the tyres finding grip and pulling the vehicle back on to the clifftop with a bone-shaking thump. The fireball boiled upwards behind it, setting one of the wheels alight. Still engulfed in the cloud of sand, the Land Rover got about thirty feet before the burning tyre blew out. Macy brought it to a jolting stop.

The dust gradually settled. Coughing, they climbed out. Berkeley shakily faced Nina. ‘Thanks for waiting for me.’

‘And thanks for . . . sort of trying to help me. I guess,’ Nina replied dubiously.

He looked relieved, holding out his hand. ‘No hard feelings?’

To Macy and Eddie’s surprise, she shook it, once . . .

Then punched him in the face. He dropped on his ass, stunned. ‘Actually, yes! That was for selling out in the first place, you son of a bitch!’ Eddie pulled her back before she could take another swing.

‘What about Shaban?’ Macy asked. She looked into the distance, but the dune buggy was long gone.

‘Shit!’ said Nina, thoughts returning to larger concerns than Berkeley. ‘He’s got the jar! How’re we going to catch up with him?’

‘We’re not,’ Eddie told her. ‘He’s got a head start - and I bet he’ll be able to get someone to pick him up by chopper. That buggy had a sat phone.’

‘So he wins?’ Macy asked, appalled. ‘After all that, he gets away with it?’

‘No,’ said Nina. ‘No way. I’m not going to let that happen.’ She stared after the departed Egyptian, thinking. ‘We need to get back to Abydos.’ Both Eddie and Macy appeared on the verge of making sarcastic comments about the obviousness of her plan. ‘Don’t even start. I said we needed to contact the authorities. We still do.’

‘In that case,’ said Eddie, indicating the Land Rover’s smoking rear tyre, ‘we’d better change that wheel. It’s a bloody long walk.’

The Egyptian Mil Mi-8 helicopter approached from the west, silhouetted against the bloated red sun on the horizon. It kicked up a swirling vortex of sand as it touched down near the Osireion at Abydos.

Nina, Eddie and Macy stood by the battered Land Rover, Berkeley sitting sullenly in its rear seat, shielding their eyes from the blowing dust. Hatches opened, six men emerging. Five were soldiers, but their uniforms were not the standard tan of regular Egyptian troops: these were the darker camouflage pattern of a special forces team.

The sixth man was a civilian - Dr Ismail Assad, Secretary General of the Supreme Council of Antiquities. ‘Dr Wilde,’ he said as he reached the Land Rover.

‘Dr Assad,’ Nina replied. She looked past the helicopter to the desert from where it had come. ‘I’m guessing you checked out the GPS co-ordinates I gave you on the phone before coming here.’

‘I did. It was . . . incredible.’ He shook his head in near-disbelief. ‘And I only had time to examine the entrance chamber. How much more is there?’

‘A lot,’ said Macy. ‘All the way down to Osiris’s tomb.’

‘Incredible,’ Assad repeated. ‘I left a team from the Antiquities Special Protection Squad,’ he nodded at the soldiers, ‘to secure the site - the SCA will send a full expedition as soon as possible.’

‘Shaban won’t be going back there,’ Eddie warned. ‘He’s got what he wanted from it.’

‘Yes, the canopic jar you told me about,’ Assad said to Nina. ‘Are you serious? You believe Shaban is going to use it to make a biological weapon?’

‘He certainly believes it,’ said Nina. ‘And he’s got the resources of the Osirian Temple - well, the Setian Temple now, I suppose - to back him up. From what I saw in Switzerland, he might be able to do it.’

Assad frowned. ‘Maybe so, but weapons of mass destruction are a little out of my field. And without proof, I can’t persuade higher authorities to take action.’

‘There’s something that is in your field, though,’ said Nina. ‘The zodiac from the Sphinx. I’m sure Shaban has it - Osir would have shipped it back to Switzerland. He even had a space picked out for it in his Osiris memorabilia collection.’

‘If Shaban has the zodiac,’ Assad mused, ‘that would definitely justify taking action. He’s an Egyptian citizen, after all - and our government takes a very dim view of archaeological thieves.’

Eddie regarded the soldiers. ‘You’d send this lot in to extradite him?’

‘I’m afraid I can’t comment on whether the ASPS have ever carried out missions outside the country,’ the Egyptian said with a small but meaningful smile.

‘And if along the way you also happened to find proof that he was manufacturing biological weapons,’ said Nina, ‘well, then you’d have to do something about it, wouldn’t you?’

‘I suppose I would. But first I would need proof that he has the zodiac.’

Nina looked at Eddie. ‘Which means getting back inside the Osirian Temple’s headquarters.’

‘How are you going to do that?’ Macy asked. ‘I mean, we saw the place - it’s like a fortress. Because it literally is a fortress! They won’t let you walk right in this time.’

‘Maybe not,’ Eddie said thoughtfully, ‘but there’s someone they might . . .’

29 Switzerland

Soft lights washed across the high stone walls of the castle as the last glow of sunset faded behind the Alpine mountains. The pyramid dominating the courtyard took on new form as blue LEDs along its edges flicked on, the black glass building becoming a neon outline topped by an intense beam shining skywards towards the pole star: a pointer to the ancient Egyptian gods.

More lights approached along the lakeside, turning on to the short spur leading to the castle and stopping at the gatehouse. A sleek black Mercedes S-Class, windows tinted almost as dark as the paint. But it wasn’t the chauffeur’s window that smoothly lowered to respond to the voice from the intercom; instead, the rear window revealed the single passenger.

‘Hi there,’ said Grant Thorn, flashing his movie star smile at the cameras. ‘Khalid Osir invited me to visit the Osirian Temple. Well, here I am!’

‘What brings you here, Mr Thorn?’ said Shaban, bland politeness barely covering his contempt - and suspicion.

Grant made himself comfortable on the leather couch in Osir’s lounge. ‘I was in Switzerland to meet some of the backers of my next movie - gotta keep the money men sweet, right?’ He grinned. ‘Since I was here, I thought I’d take Mr Osir up on his offer to watch his old movies together. Is he around?’

‘My brother is . . . out of the country,’ said Shaban.

‘Aw, man! When’ll he be back?’

A small, crooked smile. ‘Not for some time. But your trip might not be wasted. The Temple is holding a special ceremony tonight - you will attend. If you prove your faith and loyalty, you will be rewarded.’

‘Cool,’ said Grant. ‘But if Mr Osir’s not here, who’s holding the ceremony?’

‘I am in charge.’ A larger smile, edged with smugness.

Someone knocked at the door. A large, grey-haired man entered: Lorenz, face still bruised from the fight in the Hall of Records. ‘The first bus is coming.’

Shaban nodded, then turned back to Grant. ‘I have to prepare for the ceremony. Wait here - someone will come for you.’

‘Looking forward to it,’ Grant said as the two men left. He waited several seconds, then took a cell phone from his pocket - a phone with an open line. ‘Did you get that?’

‘We got it,’ said Nina into her wireless headset.

Half a mile up the valley, a pair of Mitsubishi Shogun 4×4s and a panel van were parked overlooking the castle. The van’s boxy cargo area was large enough to contain the six-foot-diameter zodiac, but it was currently serving as an impromptu command post for a team of ten soldiers from the Egyptian government’s Antiquities Special Protection Squad.

‘What kind of ceremony?’ asked Assad, in charge of the unit. Nina could only shrug, and Macy had nothing helpful to offer either. He frowned, turning to one of his men. ‘He mentioned a bus. See if there’s anything heading for the castle.’ The black-clad soldier nodded and jumped out. ‘The ASPS are only equipped for a surprise raid. If there are more people there than we expected . . .’

‘What do you want me to do?’ Grant asked. ‘This zodiac dealie, it’s in a room full of Egyptian stuff - I saw it on the way in.’

Assad shook his head. ‘We can’t do anything until we have visual proof that Shaban has the zodiac. The minister made that very clear - this operation is on shaky enough diplomatic ground as it is.’

‘We should have given Grant the camera,’ said Macy.

‘I think that might have made them a teensy bit suspicious,’ Nina pointed out. ‘Grant, I think the best thing for now is just stay put. Keep the line open; if there’s any trouble, we’ll let you know so you can try to get out of there.’

‘Escaping from a castle? Hey, I already did that in Condition: Extreme,’ Grant told her, unruffled.

‘Well, you only get one take here, so be careful.’

‘Will do.’ Grant returned the phone to his pocket.

The soldier climbed back into the van. ‘A bus just arrived - they’re lowering the drawbridge for it,’ he told Assad. ‘I checked the road along the lake, and there are more coming.’

‘This ceremony must be a big thing,’ said Nina, concerned. ‘What do we do?’

Assad frowned again, thinking. ‘We came here to see if Shaban has the zodiac. Let’s get proof first.’

Nina nodded. ‘Eddie?’

Grant’s Mercedes had parked in a lot to one side of the pyramid, near the courtyard’s wall. When Grant was taken to Shaban, his chauffeur had remained in the dark-windowed vehicle.

The chauffeur was Eddie Chase.

‘I’m here,’ he said, donning his own headset, a clip-on unit similar to a Bluetooth earpiece - with a small video camera protruding from its side. ‘What’s the situation?’

Nina updated him on what Grant had told her. Eddie looked past the pyramid to the castle’s gate, seeing the two halves of the drawbridge lowering. There was a dull bang and a rattle of chains as they met, and then a coach crawled across. From the number of faces Eddie glimpsed through the windows, the large vehicle was full to capacity. The bus stopped at the other end of the parking lot.

‘Jeez,’ said Nina, seeing the passengers disembark over the video link. ‘There’s a lot of them - and there are more buses coming. How are you going to get into the keep with all those people around?’

‘Piece of piss,’ Eddie told her. He had been watching the guards patrolling the battlements through the car’s sunroof - their attention was now focused on the crowd spilling from the bus. He slid across to the front passenger seat, then silently opened the door and slipped out. He had deliberately parked the Merc beside a large SUV; now he hunched in the shadows, keeping perfectly still until he was sure nobody had seen him exit. Satisfied, he moved forward until he could see the whole courtyard.

The pyramid’s blank glass flank lay ahead, the bus off to the left. To the right was a small ornamental garden - he could use the bushes and trees as cover to reach the keep’s side entrance. ‘Okay, I think I can get inside without being seen. Which floor’s the zodiac on?’

‘The third,’ said Nina.

‘Is that the American third floor or the British third floor?’

He smiled at her faint sigh; transatlantic terminology differences were a reliable way for him to wind her up. ‘American, of course.’

‘So, the second floor. Okay.’ He crossed the gap to the next car and crouched behind it, checking the battlements, the courtyard—

He froze.

Shaban!

The cult leader emerged from the keep’s main entrance, heading for the pyramid in the company of three men. Eddie recognised two of them: Broma and Lorenz, apparently taking over the role of Shaban’s personal guard from Diamondback. The third, carrying a cylindrical metal container, was unfamiliar.

Nina knew him, though. ‘Eddie - the guy with glasses, he’s one of the scientists I saw in the lab.’

Eddie was more interested in the object he was holding. There was a symbol marked on the stainless steel. He narrowed his eyes, trying to make it out as the four men approached the pyramid.

They disappeared from sight behind the structure’s blue-edged corner. But he had seen all he needed to see. He recognised the symbol: it had appeared in his SAS training for NBC warfare.

Three sets of curved horns, arranged in a circle. Biohazard. The cylinder was a containment flask.

For a biological agent.

He suppressed an involuntary chill. The cylinder’s contents weren’t an immediate threat: if they were, Shaban and his followers would all be wearing hazmat suits. But considering what the Egyptian had said in the tomb, the potential for enormous harm was there - and for all Eddie knew, the four men had already immunised themselves.

He had stopped one biological attack four years earlier. Now he had to stop another.

‘Uh, Eddie, where’re you going?’ Nina asked as he moved back into the SUV’s shadow.

‘I’m gonna blow up that lab. Top of the pyramid, right?’

‘That - that’s not why we’re here, Mr Chase!’ Assad stammered. ‘Our top priority is finding the zodiac.’

‘My top priority’s making sure some fucking nut-job who thinks he’s an Egyptian god doesn’t start spreading killer spores around the world.’ Eddie watched as the cultists headed for the entrance through which Shaban had just gone. He wondered why they weren’t using the nearer doors on the side of the pyramid facing the drawbridge, but decided it didn’t matter. What did matter was that they would give him a way in.

Assad and Nina both continued to protest, but he ignored them, taking a closer look at the newly arrived cultists. Unlike the mix of ages and sexes at the Osirian Temple’s gatherings in New York and Paris, this group was predominantly young men, though still of varied nationalities. Shaban’s own personal followers from round the world?

Bent low, he moved to the cover of a car closer to the pyramid, then reached up to his headset. ‘Okay, I’ll have to go off-mike. Can’t exactly stroll in there with a camera strapped to my head.’

‘Eddie, don’t—’ said Nina, but he had already removed the earpiece and clipped it unobtrusively to the bottom of his jacket.

The crowd, around fifty people, filed past, led and tailed by more green-jacketed guards. There was a lot of conversation: the tone was excited, expectant, but also tinged with what Eddie could only think of as gloating. Whatever the ceremony was, it already had the feel of a victory rally.

A glance up at the battlements, another at the guards behind, waiting for their view to be partly obscured by the throng - then he stood and smoothly matched pace with the group as if he had just emerged from the car.

He tensed, ready to fight or run. Since he was already inside the castle he doubted the cultists would question his right to be there, but if the trailing goons thought he was out of place . . .

Nobody shouted in alarm. A young man gave him a mildly curious look, but returned to his conversation with another. Relieved, but still alert, Eddie marched with the group into the pyramid.

There was no sign of Shaban or the men with him in the lobby, but there were more guards. ‘Everyone will wait in here. The temple will be opened soon,’ one called over the hubbub as the cultists filled the space, another repeating the instruction in French, then Arabic. Eddie stayed near the fringes of the crowd, checking the exits. A glass lift rising at an angle, a set of large frosted glass doors that he assumed led to the temple, two more smaller doors to each side. The lift couldn’t be the only way to reach the upper floors - there had to be stairs somewhere.

A few minutes later, another group of cultists entered. Then another. The lobby quickly became packed to bursting point. Eddie made sure he was right by one of the side doors as the original group moved to make room for the newcomers. A guard was nearby, but he just needed a brief distraction . . .

It came when the temple doors opened. Everyone instinctively turned to see, pushing closer - and Eddie slipped unseen through the side door.

As he’d hoped, it led to a stairwell, the sloping outer wall forcing each flight to ascend at odd angles like an Escher painting. He donned the headset again as he headed for the pyramid’s peak.

‘Eddie!’ Nina snapped as the monitor finally showed something other than the crotch of her husband’s jeans. ‘About damn time! What’s going on?’

‘Shaban’s gathering the faithful, by the look of it.’

‘Yeah, we saw - three busloads of them. I meant, what’s going on with you? What the hell are you doing?’

‘I told you - I’m going to take out that lab.’

‘With what? You don’t have any explosives - you don’t even have a gun!’

‘I think I’ll manage.’

One of the ASPS standing with Assad flinched at Eddie’s insouciant tone. ‘What is it?’ Assad demanded.

The soldier rushed to one of the equipment cases stacked in the van - and gasped an Arabic obscenity. ‘Sir, there are two packs of C- 4 missing.’

‘C-4?’ Macy asked as Assad gaped at him.

‘Explosives,’ said Nina. Macy edged away from the case.

‘Yeah, I borrowed ’em while you were getting set up,’ Eddie announced, as casually as if he’d taken a pencil without asking.

‘Chase!’ Assad shouted. ‘Get out of there immediately! You can’t use explosives in there - it’ll be a diplomatic catastrophe!’

‘Then why did you bring them in the first place?’ said Nina, jumping to Eddie’s defence despite sharing the Egyptian’s feelings.

Assad looked sheepish. ‘As a . . . contingency.’

‘Well, this is contingency-y,’ said Eddie. ‘And diplomacy’ll be the last thing to worry about if Shaban’s turned that crap into a bioweapon. If I take it out now, problem solved. So I’ll go upstairs, plant these charges, get Grant and blow the place up before anyone even knows I was here—’

On the screen, he reached the landing of the upper office level - and a door opened in front of him, a guard freezing in surprise as he came face to face with the Englishman.

‘Or not,’ Eddie said as he and the guard stared at each other.

The other man snapped out of his shock and tried to grab him, but Eddie slammed a knuckle punch into his throat and sent him lurching back.

The guard lashed out at Eddie’s eyes, but he whipped his head back and smashed his boot into the cultist’s groin, then punched him in the face so hard that the back of his head smacked against the door. The guard slithered to the floor, out cold.

Eddie dragged him through the door. The offices were lit only at a low level, the occasional screensaver glowing beyond the glass walls. The employees of both Osiris Investment Group and the Osirian Temple were either done for the day or filing into the temple downstairs.

‘Eddie! Are you okay?’ Nina asked.

‘Yeah, fine.’ He pulled the unconscious man out of sight, then examined him. He was roughly Eddie’s build, and only marginally taller . . .

‘Does Nina know about this side of you, Eddie?’ said Macy as the Eddie’s-eye view showed him stripping the limp guard of his jacket and trousers.

‘Funny girl,’ he replied. The image abruptly shifted, the camera pointing up at the ceiling.

‘What’re you doing?’ asked Nina.

‘I don’t want to scare Macy with what’s in my pants.’

Macy had become used enough to his innuendoes to respond only with an eye-rolling sigh. Nina smiled. ‘I don’t think she has anything to be afraid of.’

‘Tchah!’

‘It’s you who’s got things to be afraid of,’ she continued pointedly. ‘If you get caught, they’ll kill you.’

The camera aimed ahead once more. Eddie’s hand - now holding a gun - filled the screen. ‘They can try.’

‘They will try, Eddie! Don’t take any stupid chances.’

‘You know me, love.’

‘Yes, and I’d like to go on knowing you! Be careful, okay?’

‘I will. Mr Assad?’

‘Yes?’ Assad said.

‘Get your boys ready. However this turns out, there’ll be trouble - and they’ll need more than tear gas and pepperballs to deal with it.’

‘I see,’ Assad said, unhappy. A nod to the ASPS, and they opened more cases, taking out compact FN-P90 sub-machine guns. ‘Another contingency,’ he told Nina and Macy. ‘I really hope we don’t have to use them, Mr Chase.’

‘Depends on Shaban, dunnit?’ The Eddiecam tipped downwards to show him slipping the gun inside his newly acquired green jacket, then picking up the two C-4 packs and their radio detonator to squeeze them into the tight-fitting garment’s outer pockets. ‘All right, I’m ready.’

‘Good luck,’ Nina whispered as he moved out.

Eddie returned to the stairwell. No sounds of activity above or below. He didn’t know how long he would have before the guard was missed, so he quickly ascended to the top floor.

There was only one route he could follow, which brought him to the lift. A man was waiting for it; he glanced casually at Eddie as he came through the stairwell door, then did a slight double-take. Eddie concealed his concern - the man didn’t seem alarmed, just mildly puzzled by his appearance - and gave him a polite nod, keeping his head turned to conceal the earpiece. The lift arrived just as he passed it; the man boarded without looking back.

The strong scent of yeast hit his nostrils as he entered the next room. ‘Smells like a baker’s armpit in here,’ he said. The opposite wall was glass, giving him a view of the space beyond. The lab was right under the pyramid’s cap, the walls rising to meet almost at a point; above was the spotlight sending its beam towards the pole star.

There was only one person inside the chamber, his back to Eddie as he examined an object on a workbench.

One of many objects, all identical. More stainless steel containment flasks, all bearing the biohazard symbol.

‘Shit,’ Eddie hissed. ‘You seeing this? There must be fifty of the fucking things!’

‘Oh, my God,’ Nina said quietly. ‘Shaban’s big event, it’s not just a ceremony - it’s a start. He’s brought in all his followers from round the world . . . and he’s going to give them the spores to take back with them!’

‘So quickly?’ asked Assad in disbelief. ‘He only left the tomb four days ago!’

Eddie surveyed the lab, taking in the large vats used to culture the yeast, the ovens to dry it and extract the spores. The canopic jar, now open, stood inside a glass cabinet. ‘Psycho billionaires never hang about with this kind of stuff, do they?’ He noticed that the ovens were fed by large tanks of compressed gas. A good place to start an explosion . . .

If he could get to them. The lab’s inner door had a keycard lock, and the windows were designed to contain a biohazard - handgun fire would only scuff them.

‘How’s he going to get in?’ he heard Macy ask, but he was already heading for the door. He reached out—

And knocked.

The triple-glazed window absorbed the sound. He rapped harder, finally catching the scientist’s attention.

‘Open the door,’ Eddie mouthed, gesturing for him to come over.

The scientist frowned, but came to the door. He said something, voice barely audible through the glass. Eddie had basic lip-reading skills, but couldn’t make out his words, the scientist presumably speaking in a foreign language. Nevertheless, he smiled and nodded.

The man frowned again, bewildered, and swiped his card through the lock. The door slid open. ‘Hi there,’ said Eddie.

The scientist switched to English on hearing his voice. His accent was thickly Germanic. ‘What did you say?’

‘I said, “You’re fucked.” ’ Before the man could do anything more than blink in surprise, Eddie yanked him forward to slam his head against the door jamb. The scientist collapsed.

‘Ah . . . are you just going to leave him there?’ Nina asked as he dumped the unconscious man behind a lab bench. ‘I mean, you’re planning to blow the place up.’

‘He’s making a bioweapon, so fuck him.’ Picturing the disapproving expression accompanying his wife’s frosty silence, he relented, slightly. ‘Okay, I’ll drag him downstairs when I go. Happy now?’

‘Not until you’re out of there in one piece.’

He grinned, then turned his attention to the gas tanks. There was a space between them; he activated the detonation circuit of one cigarette-packet-sized block of C-4, then slid the explosive into the gap. ‘Hmm.’

‘What?’ Nina asked.

‘Bit obvious. Hang on.’ The large steel ovens beside the tanks were open. He reached to the back of one and felt beneath the perforated gas pipe. It was greasy and sooty, but there seemed to be enough room. The second pack armed, he forced it down out of sight. ‘There.’

‘So now what?’

‘Now,’ he said, taking the scientist by his arms, ‘I get out of the pyramid, push the button and blow this place to buggery.’

‘What about all the people in the temple?’ Macy asked. ‘Won’t they all get crushed?’

‘I’m tempted to say fuck ’em too, but there’s a couple of floors in between,’ he told her as he dragged the man to the door. ‘Unless this thing’s built of cheese and moonbeams, those C-4 packs aren’t big enough to bring the whole place down. The top won’t be a nice sharp point any more, though.’

‘Just make sure you’re not inside,’ said Nina. ‘And don’t forget Grant.’

‘Hey, he’s still technically a client,’ he said, using the scientist’s keycard to open the door and hauling him through. ‘Wouldn’t do my job prospects much good if I lost one, would it?’ He backed across the room, bumping open the door with his backside to enter the lobby.

A chime sounded.

The lift.

Eddie dropped the scientist and whirled, pulling out his gun—

Too late.

A pair of guards had come from the stairs, weapons pointed at him, and two more armed men rushed from the lift. Broma and Lorenz.

Knowing he had no chance of surviving a four-way shootout, Eddie froze, dropping the gun. ‘Arse.’

‘Chase,’ said Shaban, stepping out between his two bodyguards. His scarred face clenched with anger - and sadistic pleasure. ‘Just in time for our ceremony . . .’

30

Nina stared in horror at the screen as Shaban’s hand swelled to fill the camera’s field of view - and it went black.

‘Shit!’ she gasped. ‘We’ve got to get him out of there!’

‘I can’t,’ said Assad, dismayed. ‘The ASPS don’t have authorisation to act until we know the zodiac’s there.’

‘Grant said it is,’ protested Macy. ‘Isn’t that enough?’

‘No, we need visual proof - which is what your husband was supposed to find!’ he snapped at Nina.

‘Dammit!’ She ran to the truck’s open rear door and looked helplessly along the lakeside at the castle - then remembered something and switched her headset’s channel to the phone. ‘Grant! Can you hear me? Grant!’

A rustle of fabric, then: ‘Yeah, I’m here.’

‘Grant, they’ve caught Eddie! You’ve got to get out of there . . .’ An idea. ‘Your phone! If you take a picture of the zodiac, the Egyptians can move in.’

‘Wait - they’ve caught Eddie? Shit!’ The actor’s usual laid-back drawl frayed into near panic.

‘Grant, Grant, just listen!’ Nina shouted. ‘Go into the relic room and take a photo of the zodiac, and we can rescue you and Eddie!’ She glanced at Assad for confirmation that a cell phone picture would be enough; he nodded.

‘Okay. Rescue. Good idea.’ She heard his footsteps as he crossed the lounge - then a sudden whumph of material over the mouthpiece as he shoved the phone back into his pocket. ‘Shit, someone’s coming!’

The sound of a door opening, then a voice: ‘Mr Thorn?’

‘Y-yeah?’

‘The ceremony is about to begin. Come with us.’

‘Come with you three guys?’ said Grant. ‘Sure. My own personal escort, huh? Cool.’

Nina realised what he was telling her - surrounded by three men, he wouldn’t be able to take a picture of the zodiac.

And without one . . . he and Eddie were on their own.

One of the guards hurried out of the lab. ‘We found this,’ he said, holding up a C-4 pack.

Shaban turned over the radio detonator his men had just taken from Eddie in his hand. ‘Explosives? Not subtle. But not surprising, from you.’

‘I like to be consistent,’ said Eddie, forcing himself not to look back towards the oven. The second pack would be harder to find, and since there was only one detonator, Shaban might also think there was only one charge.

But even if the other bomb wasn’t found, it wouldn’t make much difference: C-4 was a very stable compound, needing extreme heat and a physical shock - the kind provided by the blasting cap inside the pack - before it would explode. He needed the radio detonator to destroy the lab. And Shaban seemed unlikely to give it back.

‘How did you know I was here?’ he asked, trying to divert the Egyptian’s mind from the detonator. As long as he didn’t think to destroy it, there might still be a chance . . .

Shaban indicated his ill-fitting green jacket. ‘Bad tailoring. I always insisted that the Temple’s security forces had their uniforms fitted. Khalid liked it because it made everyone look smart, but it has another advantage - it’s easy to tell when somebody doesn’t belong.’

‘Good thinking, Two-Face.’

Shaban’s jaw clenched, but he restrained himself from responding personally, instead nodding at Broma - who clubbed Eddie with his gun, dropping him to his knees. ‘Ow! Twat!’

‘I would have told him to shoot you, but I have something better in mind.’

Eddie didn’t like the sound of that, but kept quiet as he was hauled upright. The other man emerged from the lab. ‘I couldn’t find anything else,’ he reported.

Shaban regarded the block of C-4. ‘That would have been enough.’ He looked back at the detonator, then tipped out the battery before crushing the device under his heel.

‘Shit,’ Eddie muttered. The only way now to set off the hidden explosive was manually - which would take him with it. The pack had no timer.

The Egyptian read his expression. ‘No backup plan? Too bad.’ He smiled coldly. ‘You’ve come a long way to be here for my ceremony. So now . . . you can be part of it.’

Hands secured behind his back, Eddie was taken at gunpoint into the temple.

It was vastly more impressive than the auditorium in Paris. The doors through which the arriving cultists had entered led to a glass and steel staircase descending into a huge pit-like arena below floor level, the deep space filled with hundreds of people.

A central aisle had been left clear, green-clad men lining it like an honour guard. At its far end was another, narrower flight of stairs rising to a wide catwalk like extension from the front of a black marble stage. Four large, gleaming chrome statues of Egyptian gods stood at the protruding section’s corners. The walls were frosted glass panels laser-etched with hieroglyphs. The whole place seemed like some demented cross between a rock stadium and an Apple Store.

Shaban, Lorenz and Broma had taken a different route through the pyramid, leaving the guards to hustle Eddie down into the pit, along the aisle and up the unrailed stairs to the stage. Seeing that he was a prisoner, the cultists booed and bellowed for his blood. The sight of what, despite its chrome and glass trappings, looked uncomfortably like a sacrificial altar gave Eddie the nasty feeling that they expected to get it.

His captors took him to one side and waited, giving him a chance to look for possible escape routes. The only choices were back down into the pit, exits on each side of the stage - and a set of double doors at the centre of the back wall. This entrance was flanked by a pair of even larger statues. The bodies were of Osiris, similar to the statues outside the god-king’s tomb, but the heads were different, the figures having been recently decapitated and replaced by the visage of some strange beast, a fearsome, elongated cross between jackal and horse.

The face of Set.

Shaban had wasted no time in putting his mark on the temple. Eddie now also realised why the cultists had been made to go to the more distant entrance. The double doors led north, to ancient Egyptians the direction reserved for royalty. Osir had designed that feature of the temple for effect . . . but his brother believed it.

Minutes passed, the crowd’s anticipation rising. Then the lights dimmed.

‘Set! Set! Set!’ the cultists chanted, raising their clenched fists high to punch the air. ‘Set! Set! Set!’

The doors opened.

Spotlights tracking him, Shaban stepped on to the stage. When he left Eddie he had been wearing an expensive but understated suit - now, his clothes were anything but subtle. He had donned a set of green and black robes, a modern interpretation of traditional Egyptian royal clothing, and an elaborate headdress, again a stylised version of those traditionally worn by the pharaohs. Broma and Lorenz stood in the half-shadows behind him.

The cultists went berserk, screaming ‘Set!’ over and over again, stamping their feet so hard that the stage floor trembled. Shaban took in the adulation like his brother had before him, then raised his hands. The tumult quickly died down.

‘Servants of Set!’ he said, voice booming from loudspeakers; the headdress also contained a microphone. ‘Welcome! The day has finally come. The worthless platitudes of Osiris have been swept aside. He is no more. I am at last the true leader! I am Set reborn! And I will show the world the true power of a god!’

The response from the crowd was more frenzied than before. Even the guards surrounding Eddie were caught up in the moment - though not, he quickly found when he tested his bonds, enough to forget why they were on the stage. One jabbed a gun into his back as Shaban again signalled for silence.

The scientist who had crossed the courtyard with the cult leader earlier approached, bearing the containment flask. He bowed and presented it to Shaban, then retreated.

‘This,’ said Shaban in a low voice, ‘is the seed of our power. This is how the Temple of Set will spread my will over the world. In this container,’ his voice rose as he held the flask over his head, ‘is death. Death, to those who oppose us. Death, to the unbelievers. Death, to all those who refuse to bow to the might of Set!’

The crowd chanted and stamped again - though, Eddie realised, fractionally less powerfully than before. Maybe not all of them were one hundred per cent behind the idea of global genocide . . .

Shaban lowered the flask. ‘This container is just the first. When you leave, you will take with you many more. Slowly, invisibly, you will spread their contents across the world. By the time our enemies realise what we have done, it will be too late - they will already have consumed this death. There is only one way they can survive - by pledging their total obedience and worship to the Temple of Set! You, my followers, will be safe - the bread of Set will protect you.’ His voice rose again, almost a scream. ‘But only those I deem worthy will receive it - all others will die! The reign of Set has begun!’

Another explosion of approval came from the pit - but this time there were noticeable pockets showing rather less enthusiasm. The cult leader returned the flask to the scientist, then faced the crowd once more . . . though Eddie saw a now-familiar tension in Shaban’s face, anger just barely contained beneath the surface.

‘I know some of you may be having second thoughts,’ he said, his voice almost silky, reassuring. Shaban might not have had his brother’s oratorical skills, but he had certainly taken notes. ‘If you have doubts, now is the time to make them known.’ He gestured to the stairs leading up to the stage. ‘Come. Step forward. I will end your fears.’

He smiled, but his eyes were crocodile-cold. ‘Don’t do it!’ Eddie shouted, seeing a few of the cultists moving to the aisle, but the guards pistol-whipped him to his knees. His voice was lost in the murmurs of the crowd, those taking Shaban up on his offer being regarded with suspicion, even hostility, by the others.

About twelve men hesitantly grouped in the aisle. ‘There are no more?’ Shaban asked, mild tone and empty smile again concealing his emotions. He surveyed the crowd for any more signs of disaffection. Seeing none, his lips curled to reveal his true feelings. ‘Then bring them to me!’ he barked.

The guards lining the aisle had been prepared for this moment. In a sudden burst of action, they closed in from both sides, crashing together like two green waves. Fists and feet flailing, they beat the dissenters to the floor. When the chaos ebbed, the bloodied dozen were dragged up the stairs by three men each. The rest of the crowd began a horrible baying that grew louder and more animalistic as the moaning victims were brought to the altar.

Shaban glared at the doubters with contempt, then turned back to his followers. ‘You have accepted me as your leader - as your god! There is no room for doubt, no room for fear - I give you eternal life, and in return I demand eternal obedience! I am your god! I am Set!’

‘Set! Set! Set!’ screamed the crowd.

He moved behind the altar, picking up a long, wicked blade. A nod to the nearest group of guards, and their prisoner was hauled on to the glass-topped block. His cries for help went unheard beneath the mob’s yelling.

Holding the knife up to the spotlights, Shaban began a sinister prayer, his amplified words rolling round the chamber. ‘I pay homage to you, O Ra, lord of heaven. I am your champion, the doer of your will within this world. Your light falls upon the great mother Nut, whose hands encompass the sky above us, and the great father Geb, whose body spans the earth beneath us. I am your son, your servant . . . your warrior.’

He raised the blade higher. ‘In blood, I show my worth,’ he proclaimed. ‘In blood, I slay your enemies. In blood, I take my rightful place as the ruler of this world, and the next, for all eternity! Those who do not believe, shall suffer! Those who oppose, shall fall! I am Set, lord of the desert, master of darkness, the god of death! I am Set!’

The masses below began their awful chant once more, fists punching skyward in unison. Eddie spotted Grant, who was watching in horror as he realised the ritual’s inevitable end, but was too afraid to fight or flee.

‘I am Set!’ Shaban repeated. ‘I have slain the coward Osiris, and now in blood I take dominion over all things! I am Set! Set! Set!’

He plunged the knife downwards.

Blood gouted from the helpless man’s chest as Shaban stabbed again and again, the guards holding him down as he writhed and convulsed . . . then fell still. Eddie watched, appalled.

But Shaban wasn’t finished. Clothes spattered with trickling red spots, he rushed to the next prisoner, face alight with an insane glee. ‘I am the bringer of death!’ he cried, slashing the knife across the man’s throat and sending a crimson spew down his chest. The other men struggled and screamed, but were held too tightly to escape as the knife plunged into their flesh. ‘This is the fate of those who question! Those who follow me shall live for ever - and all others will die!’

‘Jesus Christ!’ Nina gasped, turning pale as she listened to Shaban’s rant via Grant’s phone. Macy covered her mouth with both hands, eyes wide. ‘He’s killing them!’ She faced Assad. ‘Send in your men!’

Sweat beaded on the Egyptian’s face. ‘I . . . I don’t have the authority,’ he said desperately. ‘I need to - I need to call the minister.’

‘There’s no time! We’ve got to - oh, shit . . .’ She tailed off as Shaban spoke again.

‘Grant Thorn,’ said the cult leader, the name echoing round the temple. ‘Will Grant Thorn step forward? Mr Thorn!’

‘I’m . . . I’m here,’ Grant croaked, mouth as dry as dust.

‘Good.’ Shaban smirked nastily. ‘I’m sure you all know Mr Thorn. But,’ the smirk darkened, ‘he was a follower of my brother. It is time to see if he will pledge himself to his new god.’

‘Uh . . . sure!’ Grant cleared his throat. ‘Sure thing! I - I pledge to worship you, O Set! Totally!’

‘I will need more proof than mere words,’ said Shaban. ‘Come up here.’

Grant hesitated, but was pushed forward by a pair of goons. Shaking, he ascended the stairs. At the top, he looked round at Eddie, the statues, the ceiling - anything to avoid Shaban’s cold stare, or the bloodied bodies round the altar.

‘I’m giving you a great honour, Mr Thorn,’ said Shaban, stepping up to him. He was still holding the dripping knife; Grant cringed back from its point. ‘You have all seen the fate of those who do not obey my will. Now . . .’ He looked round at Eddie, the sadistic smirk returning. ‘Now you will see the fate that awaits the enemies of Set.’

‘A blowjob from a supermodel?’ Eddie shouted, a display of defiance that earned him a hard blow to the head.

Shaban sneered. ‘This man,’ he said, pointing, ‘has opposed us. Has tried to destroy us. Has tried to deny you everlasting life!’ The crowd jeered. ‘There can be only one punishment - death!’ He whirled to face Grant, holding up the knife in front of the actor’s face. ‘And you, Mr Thorn, will prove your loyalty to the Temple of Set - by killing him.’

Grant’s mouth moved silently before his voice fearfully emerged. ‘Oh, no, I, ah . . . that’s really your kind of honour.’

‘I insist,’ said Shaban icily. He nudged a corpse with his foot. ‘And you know what happens to those who do not obey the will of Set.’

Pushing the knife into the reluctant actor’s hands, he quickly stepped back out of arm’s reach, then gestured to the guards holding Eddie. ‘Bring him to the altar!’

‘They’re going to kill Eddie!’ Nina shouted at Assad. ‘Do something!’ The Egyptian was trapped between his urge to act and the restrictions of his orders, fumbling with his phone. ‘Fuck!’ Frustrated, angry and afraid, she ran to the van’s doors and looked at the castle.

The drawbridge was still lowered.

Macy called after her as she jumped down, but she ignored her and hurried to the nearer of the team’s Mitsubishi Shoguns. The big 4×4 was fully kitted out for off-road work with heavy-duty tyres, raised suspension, a winch and a bullbar jutting from the front. Both doors on the driver’s side were open, and one of the ASPS was perched on the side of the driving seat with his feet on the ground as he smoked a cigarette, waiting for the call to action.

Nina delivered it in a way he hadn’t been expecting. ‘Hey!’

He looked up - and she punched him, knocking his head back against the door frame. He was more shocked than hurt, but his confusion was enough to enable Nina to pull him from the vehicle. The other ASPS nearby reacted in surprise.

She jumped into the cab and started the engine, slamming the Mitsubishi into gear.

Macy dived through the open rear door. ‘Wait!’

‘Get out, Macy!’ Nina yelled as she swerved the 4×4 round the van. Assad shouted for her to stop as they passed.

‘I’m going with you!’

‘No, you’re not - you could get killed!’

‘I’m getting used to it! Besides . . .’ Nina flinched as the barrel of a large gun was poked between the front seats. ‘This might be handy.’

‘That’s not even a proper gun!’ The odd-looking weapon was an Arwen 37, a fat-barrelled riot gun loaded with five tear gas cartridges in its bulky rotary magazine.

Macy withdrew the Arwen. ‘Well, if you want a different one, you’ll have to turn round!’

That wasn’t going to happen. The Shogun tore down the lakeside road. Nina could hear what was happening inside the temple through her headset. Eddie was still alive, she could tell from the swearing.

But another voice chilled her to the bone. Shaban.

‘I pay homage to you, O Ra . . .’

She pushed the accelerator down harder.

Grant’s gaze flicked desperately between Eddie and Shaban as the cult leader continued his murderous prayer. His followers chanted the dark god’s name as he spoke, eagerly awaiting the deadly climax.

Most of the guards had returned to the pit, but four still held Eddie on the sacrificial block. ‘Oi! Scarface!’ he shouted. ‘Does all this really make up for having your knob burned off?’

Shaban’s only response was a furious twitch, but one guard smashed his elbow down on Eddie’s stomach. The Englishman let out a choked gasp of pain.

‘In blood, I show my worth . . .’

The Mitsubishi reached the spur road, Nina skidding it round the corner in a shower of loose gravel. Macy yelped as she slithered across the bench seat.

‘Uh-oh,’ said Nina. The gatehouse at the lake’s edge lay ahead . . . and the drawbridge had just started to rise. Her approach had been spotted.

Macy sat up. ‘We’re not gonna make it!’

‘We’ve got to make it,’ Nina told her grimly. Her foot was back down to the floor as they hurtled along the short road. The drawbridge’s two halves parted, rising a foot, two . . .

She heard Shaban’s prayer continuing over the growl of the engine and Macy’s panicked pleas to stop. ‘I am Set, lord of the desert, master of darkness, the god of death!’

Grant’s hands shook as he held the knife over Eddie. He tried to back away - and felt a gun held by another guard press against his spine.

Shaban fixed him with a malevolent stare. ‘I have slain the coward Osiris, and now in blood I take dominion over all things!’

‘We’re gonna crash!’ Macy squealed.

Nina gripped the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the drawbridge. The nearer section was at a twenty-five degree angle, and still rising.

She didn’t slow.

The Mitsubishi hit the drawbridge with a bone-jarring crash - and continued up it. It shot off the end, clearing the widening gap and smashing down on the far side with an impact that shattered two of the side windows. Macy screamed.

The front airbags exploded from their compartments, kicking Nina painfully back into her seat - but she saw the pyramid ahead and aimed straight at it.

Shaban’s voice rang in her ears. ‘I am Set! Set! Set!’

‘And match!’ Nina cried—

The Shogun ploughed through the pyramid’s glass wall.

31

Eddie stared up at Grant. He could tell from his eyes that the actor wasn’t going to drive the knife into his chest. Which was good.

But it was also bad, because it meant Shaban’s followers would kill them both.

And pinned to the table, hands tied behind his back, there was nothing he could do to stop it—

Boom!

Everyone on the stage spun at the noise - and, with a colossal crash of exploding glass, the Mitsubishi careered through the double doors.

Heading straight for the altar.

Lorenz tackled Shaban out of the truck’s path. Broma rolled the other way. The guards holding Eddie scattered.

The Shogun skidded, swerving to miss the altar - but it couldn’t stop in time to avoid colliding with one of the statues. The chrome-plated figure rocked as the 4×4’s hefty bullbar smashed a chunk out of its legs, almost toppling into the pit . . . then tipped back and fell. The marble floor was smashed under its weight - as was the scientist. The canister spun away.

The fallen statue rolled and demolished the altar as Eddie flung himself clear, knocking the stunned Grant with him. It continued over the end of the stage, flattening another guard - then the stairway collapsed beneath it, sending the rest of the men flying. Cultists screamed and scrambled backwards to escape being crushed.

Eddie sat up, expecting to see one of the ASPS inside the battered Shogun - and was startled, but delighted, to find Nina at the wheel instead. ‘That’s what I call gatecrashing!’ he called.

‘Eddie, come on!’ she shouted back - only for her expression to change to alarm. ‘Look out!’

Broma was pointing a gun at him—

A flat thump came from the 4×4 - and something streaked across the stage to hit Broma’s chest with a crack that broke his sternum. He fell backwards into the pit as the object that had injured him bounced back and clanked across the marble, streaming white smoke.

Only it wasn’t just smoke. Eddie felt a stinging, burning sensation in his eyes and nose. Tear gas. He looked back at the Shogun to see Macy hefting an Arwen 37 out of the broken window.

‘Hold your breath!’ Eddie warned. ‘Grant, cut me loose!’

The bewildered Grant remembered he was holding a knife. He sawed at the zip-tie with the bloodied blade until it snapped. Eddie shook off the plastic restraint and stood. The tear gas was swirling across the stage, thick clumps of white mist obscuring his view, but he could make out Shaban and Lorenz still on the floor by one of the statues.

He checked the pit. With the stairs destroyed the cultists couldn’t reach the stage directly, but there was another way out—

‘Shit!’ Some of Shaban’s followers had already come to the same conclusion and were heading for the stairs at the temple’s opposite end. If they got out, he and the others would be massively outnumbered, and probably torn to pieces by the mob.

He ran to the truck. ‘Gimme that,’ he said to Macy, snatching the Arwen from her and firing the remaining four canisters across the pit at the other set of stairs. The crowd immediately turned back, coughing and clutching at their faces as they tried to escape the searing vapour.

‘Get in!’ Nina shouted from the 4×4.

‘No, you get out!’ he countered. ‘That gas won’t stop ’em for long - we’ve got to keep them trapped down there!’

‘How?’

‘With the truck.’

‘But we need it to get out of here!’

‘Did they raise the drawbridge?’

‘Yes, but—’

‘Then we won’t have time to lower it before that lot come after us like bloody zombies! Come on, shift! You too, Macy!’

Macy climbed out of his side of the Mitsubishi, Nina the other, as Eddie leaned across the passenger seat. ‘This worked for Shaban, hope it works for us,’ he muttered as he put the Mitsubishi in Drive - and used the empty riot gun to jam down the accelerator.

The 4×4 roared towards the broken stairs as Eddie rolled backwards out of it. He thumped down painfully on debris from the ruined altar, skidding across the marble—

Grant dived and grabbed his arm just before he slithered into the pit, his legs dangling over the edge.

The cultists scattered screaming as the Mitsubishi smashed down to their level. Through some collective obedience the aisle was still more or less clear, though a couple of green-blazered goons were slammed aside as the truck, its suspension grinding, charged along the pit.

It disappeared into the billowing cloud of tear gas—

Another huge crash of breaking glass and steel echoed round the chamber as the 4×4 hit the other flight of stairs, getting halfway up them and leaping out of the miasma like a whale breaching the ocean surface before they collapsed beneath it.

Eddie scrambled back on to the stage. ‘Thanks, mate,’ he told Grant. With both staircases destroyed, the cultists were trapped in the pit. ‘So how do you like real action?’

Grant was still shaken. ‘I, uh . . . I prefer the Hollywood version.’

‘Let’s get you back to it, then. Come on.’

They rounded the broken altar. The tear gas from the first canister was still spreading, forcing Nina to retreat towards them. Eddie looked round in alarm. ‘Where’s Macy?’

Nina’s eyes watered as the stinging vapour attacked her mucous membranes. ‘In there,’ she gasped, pointing into the wafting mass.

‘Macy! Can you hear me?’ He heard a feminine cough from somewhere in the cloud. ‘Okay, we’ve got to go through it. Hold your breath, keep your eyes and nose covered, and grab hold of me.’ He held out his hands.

Grant was also suffering the effects of the pungent chemicals, face screwed up in discomfort. ‘Aren’t you feeling this?’ the actor asked Eddie as he and Nina took hold of him.

‘Nah, this is pretty weak - the SAS chucks you in rooms full of way worse stuff in training. You get used to it, like vindaloo. Okay, ready?’ They both nodded, holding their noses. ‘Go!’

He rushed into the cloud, pulling Nina and Grant behind him. His eyes immediately started streaming, and his exposed skin felt as though it was being jabbed by hot needles - his training had made him more resistant than most to the effects of tear gas, but not immune, and it was several years since he had last undergone the experience. But he kept going until they emerged into clearer air on the other side.

Where was Macy?

The fog’s boundary was uneven, clumps still hanging stubbornly despite the light breeze coming through the smashed doors. Another cough, and he spotted a half-shrouded shape. ‘Macy! Over here, c’mon!’ He shook off Grant and Nina and started towards her.

A blink to clear stinging tears from his eyes—

There were now two shapes in the mist.

‘Macy!’

Too late.

The other figure resolved itself into Shaban. He grabbed Macy from behind, pressing a gun to her head to use her as a human shield - then realised his opponents were unarmed—

Nina pulled Grant behind one of the remaining statues as Eddie dived for the only cover he could reach - the cloud of tear gas. A bullet carved a vortex through the swirling mist just above him as he rolled deeper into the dense fog.

Losing sight of him, Shaban blasted two more shots at Nina and Grant, smacking chunks out of the statue. Then he shoved the gun against Macy’s head again, making her scream as the hot metal burned her, and dragged her backwards.

‘Lorenz!’ he shouted. ‘Get the canister!’

Nina risked a quick glance out from behind the statue, and saw the stainless steel container lying on its side across the stage. Lorenz picked it up and looked to Shaban for orders.

‘Get to the helicopter!’ the Egyptian shouted as he retreated, hauling the struggling Macy with him.

Eddie burst from the cloud to take cover behind the statue nearest Shaban and his lackey. Shaban fired again, the bullet twanging off the chromed figure. ‘If you follow, I’ll kill her!’ he warned as he reached the side exit. Lorenz opened the door, and they backed through.

Eddie let out a hacking cough. ‘Jesus!’ he wheezed, wiping his eyes. ‘They’ve changed the bloody formula since I last did a gas drill!’

Nina hurried to him, Grant behind her. ‘Now what’re we gonna do?’

‘Get him somewhere safe, for a start,’ said Eddie, nodding at the actor. ‘Then get that drawbridge down so Assad and his lads can come in.’

‘What about you?’

‘I’m going to get Macy.’ The breeze had wafted the gas far enough down the stage for him to spot something amongst the debris: a gun, dropped by one of the guards. He collected it - then, to Nina’s surprise, handed it to her. ‘Shoot anything green.’

‘Why aren’t you taking it?’ she asked.

‘ ’Cause there might still be guards at the gate.’

‘I’m not going to the gate - I’m going with you.’

‘No, you need to look after Grant.’

Grant looked offended. ‘Hey, I can take care of myself, man.’

‘You ever fired a real gun?’ Eddie demanded.

‘Yeah.’

‘At a person?’

‘No.’ His eyebrows shot up. ‘Wait, she has?’

‘Way too often,’ said Nina. ‘Look, Eddie, you—’

‘There isn’t time to fucking argue,’ Eddie snapped, running after Shaban. ‘Just get that bridge down!’ He reached the exit and was about to go through when he looked back. ‘Oh, and thanks for rescuing me! Now bugger off!’

‘Any time,’ Nina said with a smile. She turned to Grant. ‘Okay, come on.’ They ran for the doors.

‘You’ve really shot people?’

‘Afraid so. Transfixed a guy with a sword once, too.’

‘Wow.’ They entered a small lobby, floor littered with broken glass from the Mitsubishi’s entrance. Through the gaping hole in the outer wall the drawbridge was visible, still raised. ‘Has anyone optioned your life story? It’d make a great movie!’

‘Yeah, but who’d play me?’ Nina looked outside. Nobody in sight. ‘Let’s get you out of here - then I can go after my husband!’

The side exit led to a corridor along the pyramid’s eastern base. Eddie ran down it to the lobby through which he had entered the building.

No sign of Shaban, Lorenz or Macy. Or anyone else - Shaban’s followers had been in the temple to hear their godhead’s rant, and were still trapped in the pit.

He crossed the lobby. The outer doors slid open as he approached, the sound of a helicopter’s engine reaching him. It was nearing takeoff speed. And as soon as the chopper was clear of the castle, Macy would become dead weight - literally.

A quick glance round the doorframe revealed the helicopter, a sleek six-passenger Eurocopter EC130, on the pad in one corner of the courtyard. Lorenz was in the front passenger seat beside the pilot, Shaban and Macy behind them. A glint of metal told Eddie that Lorenz had the gun; his door was ajar so he could shoot at anyone trying to approach.

He needed to get round to the pilot’s side to block his aim. If he ran fast enough, he could make it before the aircraft took off - assuming Lorenz wasn’t a crack shot.

He took a deep breath . . . and ran.

Nina and Grant reached the gatehouse. Part of the castle’s structure had been extended by a booth with mirrored windows: a security station. The drawbridge controls were almost certainly inside.

Nina reached the door first and flung it open - just as the sound of echoing gunfire reached her from the far side of the pyramid. She instinctively looked back. Eddie—

A noise inside the booth. Nina whirled to see a guard drawing a gun. She jumped backwards - and collided with Grant as he tried to follow her inside. He lurched clear, but she stumbled and fell on her back. The gun was jolted from her hand.

The guard ran towards her. She tried to get up, but he was already upon her, pointing his gun down at her head—

A sudden blur of motion, and the automatic flew into the air as Grant leapt up and delivered a high kick to the man’s hand. He landed straddling Nina, twisting to slam an elbow into the guard’s chest and following it by backhanding him in the face. The man staggered.

Grant grinned at Nina. ‘Krav Maga, man! Learned those moves for a movie.’

She wasn’t impressed. ‘This isn’t a movie - and he’s not down!’

‘Huh?’ He looked round - and saw the guard still standing, a hand to his aching nose and an expression of rising anger on his face. ‘But that always works on set!’

‘Because they’re stuntmen, idiot - aah!’ Nina scrambled out of the way as the enraged guard tackled Grant to the ground and clamped his hands round the actor’s throat.

Another shot cracked across the courtyard, one of the pyramid’s glass panels shattering behind Eddie as he sprinted to pass in front of the helicopter. Lorenz, already leaning from the cockpit to track him, would in moments be forced either to jump out or shoot through the windscreen to maintain a line of fire - and with the chopper almost at takeoff speed, both options were unlikely.

Which meant he would take one last shot—

Eddie threw himself into a forward roll as the Dutchman fired again, the bullet kicking up splinters from a flagstone. Without pause he leapt back to his feet and continued running, angling back round to the pilot’s side . . .

The helicopter left the ground.

He pushed harder, squinting into the blasting wind. The aircraft ascended at full power, its skids already six feet off the ground in less than a second, rocketing skywards—

Eddie jumped.

One hand fell an inch short - but he clamped the other round the skid as the helicopter turned.

His weight made the aircraft sway, its occupants instantly realising they had another passenger. ‘Shake him off!’ Shaban ordered.

Eddie pulled himself up to get a grip with his other hand - as the helicopter tipped sharply, trying to jolt him loose.

The guard slammed Grant’s head down, squeezing his neck harder. The actor grimaced, eyes bulging. ‘Your movies,’ the man grunted, ‘are crap!’

Grant tried to gurgle a riposte as he struck at the guard’s head, but he couldn’t score a solid blow. The man dug his thumbs deeper into his neck, pushing down on his carotid artery—

‘Hey!’

The guard looked round - and Nina kicked him in the face. He rolled off Grant, spitting out blood and broken enamel. But he wasn’t out of the fight. He spotted Nina’s gun and scrambled for it.

His own pistol had landed further away. Nina dived, landing painfully as she snatched it up and twisted to face her opponent.

He was taking aim—

Nina fired first. A bloody hole burst open in his green blazer as she shot him in the stomach. He screamed, all thoughts of returning fire eradicated by agony.

‘Jesus!’ Grant gasped. ‘You shot him!’

‘No shit! Get the gun!’ As the shocked Grant crawled over and pulled it from the man’s shaking hand, Nina rushed into the booth. CCTV screens showed the main gate, the drawbridge and the road on the shore - where she could see the ASPS’ van and the other Shogun waiting to cross.

Where were the drawbridge controls? There - a panel on one wall. She shoved the lever to the down position and stabbed at a green button. A buzzer rasped, followed by the whine of a motor, then both noises were drowned out by the clank and rattle of chains as the drawbridge descended.

She ran back outside and saw the helicopter rise unsteadily into view from behind the glass pyramid.

Someone was hanging from the skids.

Eddie.

The pilot jerked the cyclic control stick sideways. The helicopter lurched, veering towards one of the castle’s towers before he pushed the stick back to counter the sudden move. The passengers jolted hard in their seats, and something banged against the fuselage under the pilot’s side window. Macy shrieked.

‘Is he gone?’ Shaban demanded.

The pilot leaned over to get a better view of the skid—

The door flew open.

A deafening whirlwind blasted into the cabin as the rotor downwash came through the door - followed by Eddie. He had used the chopper’s roll to swing up and hook his legs round the skid, letting him reach the door handle. The startled pilot took a savage punch to the face, and before he could recover Eddie muscled his way inside and put him in a chokehold. ‘Land this thing!’

‘Shoot him!’ Shaban barked.

Lorenz raised the gun - and Eddie hit the struggling pilot again, twisting him into the line of fire. The Dutchman swore, trying to aim round him—

Eddie yanked back the cyclic stick.

The chopper’s nose tipped up sharply, throwing everyone backwards. Alarms honked and buzzed: stall warnings. The EC130 was now flying backwards - and descending rapidly, the rotor blades’ steep angle not generating enough lift to maintain height.

In the corner of his eye, Eddie saw the pyramid approaching fast—

He released the stick. The pilot slammed it forward and jammed down a rudder pedal in a desperate attempt to regain control before the helicopter smashed into the pyramid. The EC130 pitched forward, spinning. Centrifugal force threw Eddie outwards, only his grip on the pilot keeping him in the aircraft.

He clawed for another handhold - the buckle of the pilot’s harness.

His thumb pushed down on the release.

The pilot let out a choked scream of fear as the belts popped free. The only thing now keeping him in his seat was his grip on the controls. The pyramid whirled past, the Eurocopter’s tail sweeping barely a foot from the dark glass.

‘Take it down!’ Eddie roared. ‘Now!’

‘Take us up!’ Shaban bellowed. He unfastened his own seat belt, leaning across the cabin to pull Eddie’s arm off the pilot—

Macy slammed her elbow into the Egyptian’s face. He jerked back, headdress flying off.

Lorenz pointed the gun at Macy—

Eddie grabbed the controls again.

Horrified, Nina watched as the helicopter reeled drunkenly back behind the pyramid, losing height. ‘Oh, my God!’

Grant stood, rubbing his throat. ‘Whoa, I wouldn’t want to be in that. Where’s Eddie?’

She gave him an anguished look. ‘Where do you think?’

The van sped past and skidded to a halt, the Shogun following. Assad jumped out of the latter as his troops deployed, glancing questioningly at the now-unconscious guard. ‘Dr Wilde! Where’s the zodiac?’

She pointed at the keep. ‘Third floor - but listen, the cultists are all trapped in the pyramid! You’ve got to keep them there until the authorities arrive. If any of them escape with the spores . . .’

Assad was torn, but reluctantly nodded. ‘I’ll split the ASPS into two teams, one for the zodiac, the other for—’ The helicopter wobbled back into view, still spinning. ‘What in Allah’s name?’

‘Shaban’s aboard - and so are Eddie and Macy!’ The EC130 dropped behind the pyramid once more. Nina stared helplessly after it - then jumped into the empty Shogun.

‘Dr Wilde, wait - stop!’ Assad cried as the Mitsubishi peeled away after the helicopter, Nina not even bothering to close the door. ‘Not again!’

The Eurocopter was only twenty feet above the courtyard, the pilot unable to increase power as he clung by his fingertips to the collective control lever between the front seats.

Eddie kept his fearsome grip round the man’s neck. His grab at the controls had stopped Lorenz from shooting Macy, but the Dutchman was recovering from the dizzying spin.

As was Shaban. Macy tried to hit him again, but he twisted her arm upwards and back. There was a popping crackle from her shoulder, and she screamed. The Egyptian shoved her against the door. She moaned in pain.

Another clack of a seat belt buckle, and Lorenz leaned forward, pointing the gun round the pilot for a clear shot. Eddie grabbed the weapon with his free hand, trying to aim it away from himself.

Both men’s hands trembled as they fought to overpower the other, but Lorenz had more leverage. Grunting with effort, Eddie brought one foot up off the skid and into the cabin, forcing himself inside.

The shuddering gun pointed towards the pilot. If Lorenz fired, he would be signing his own death warrant. Eddie pushed harder—

Eyes blazing with hatred, Shaban lunged forward and smashed a fist into his face.

Eddie toppled backwards, losing his grip on the gun . . . and the pilot.

He fell—and slammed painfully against the skid. His foot was tangled in the seat belt. Dangling upside down, he was less than ten feet above the ground - and the helicopter was still dropping, about to crush him!

Nina slewed the Shogun round the corner of the pyramid - and saw the helicopter ahead, still spinning, losing height—

Coming right at her.

‘Shit!’ she shrieked, stamping on the brake and diving out of the open door as the EC130 whirled like a sycamore seed at the 4×4—

The gasping pilot sat up - and flinched in shock as he realised how close he was to the ground. Jamming down the other rudder pedal, to counter the spin, he twisted the throttle to increase power.

Eddie’s outstretched hands scraped the ground - then the helicopter levelled out. He saw Nina sprawled beside the ASPS’ second 4×4 as he was whisked past.

The Shogun—

Nina jumped up. ‘Eddie!’ she yelled as the chopper steadied, hovering above the courtyard.

‘The winch!’ he shouted back. ‘Chuck it to me!’

‘What?’

He jabbed both hands at the Mitsubishi’s front end. ‘The winch, the cable! Throw it!’

The 4×4 had a winch system affixed to its front bumper, a hundred and fifty feet of steel cable with a hook at the end. She ran to it as the EC130 drifted back towards her. Pulling the release lever to let the spool turn freely, she grabbed the hook with one hand and tugged out a length of cable with the other.

‘Get us out of here!’ Shaban snapped. The pilot applied more power. The helicopter rose again.

Nina looked up at Eddie as he swept past. Their eyes met.

She didn’t know if she had pulled out enough cable, but it was the only chance she had to save him.

He stretched out his hands.

She hurled the hook with every fibre of her strength.

The line arced towards him, whipping in the downdraft. He stretched out, grabbed—

Caught.

His forefinger closed round the very tip of the hook. He pulled it up, getting a grip with both hands—

The cable reached the limit of the slack Nina had drawn out. It pulled tight, the spool whining as more line was unwound.

It spun faster. She looked up. The helicopter was ascending ever faster.

Straining, foot twisting in the tangled seat belt, Eddie bent at the waist. He couldn’t quite reach the skid. With a roar he pulled harder, crunching his body, but the tension of the cable stopped him short.

The pilot briefly took his hand off the cyclic to close his door, but something obstructed it. Hand back on the stick, he glanced at the straining harness beside his seat. ‘He’s still here!’

‘Lorenz!’ Shaban snapped. ‘Lean out and shoot him!’

Lorenz looked back uncertainly. ‘Lean out?’

‘He’s hanging from the skid! Shoot under us!’ He stabbed an angry finger at the floor. The Dutchman looked more dubious than ever, but obediently turned to take a firm grip on one of his seat belt straps before unlatching his door.

Nina looked frantically between the helicopter and the winch. The cable had almost run out.

Lorenz pushed the door open and leaned out, craning his neck to get a view under the EC130’s fuselage. He spotted the flailing figure on the other side of the aircraft and moved out further, taking aim.

Eddie made one final desperate lunge as Lorenz fixed him in his gunsights—

The hook caught on the skid.

A split second later, the cable reached the end of its reel.

Nina leapt back as the Mitsubishi jumped violently. Above, the slamming jolt as the rapidly ascending helicopter came to an abrupt stop flung Shaban and the pilot upwards, the latter smacking his head on the canopy. Macy, strapped in, cried out as she was thrown against her restraints.

For the two men outside the cabin, the effects were more extreme.

Eddie, a moment earlier struggling to reach the skid, was suddenly hurled up against it. On pure instinct, he wrapped his arms round the metal tube, clinging to it.

Lorenz was less lucky, his gun hand catching the edge of the door frame and knocking the pistol back into the cabin as he was thrown upwards—

His head clipped the rotor blades.

Red and grey sprayed across the windscreen, then he fell, the top of his skull missing in a neat line just above his eyes. The tumbling body smashed on the unyielding stone a hundred and fifty feet below.

The dazed pilot slumped against the instrument console, the cyclic stick pushed under him. The helicopter slewed sideways towards the pyramid, trapped on the cable like a hooked marlin leaping from the sea.

Nina yelped and jumped out of the way as the 4×4 followed it. The Eurocopter didn’t have enough power to lift the two-and-a-half-ton Shogun - but it could drag it.

Eddie pulled up his free leg and hooked it round the skid. A glance down: the chopper was over the pyramid, heading for the shaft of light stabbing skywards from its summit.

He shook his foot free of the seat belt, then hauled himself on top of the skid. A look through the window revealed the pilot, groggily sitting upright, and Macy behind him. Her face was contorted in pain as she clutched one shoulder.

Shaban was bent over beside her, reaching for something in the footwell. At first Eddie thought he was trying to retrieve the spore canister - then he spotted the steel cylinder on the empty seat next to the Egyptian.

He realised what Shaban was after just as the other man found it and snapped upright, pointing the gun at Eddie—

Macy hit his arm as he pulled the trigger.

The side windows were obscured by a burst of gore as the bullet hit the pilot’s head at point-blank range, blowing out half his skull. His body spasmed, kicking down hard on one rudder pedal. The helicopter went into a violent spin.

The pilot’s door swung open. Eddie dragged himself inside, climbing over the corpse. Shaban had been thrown over to the cabin’s opposite side. Gun still in one hand, he clawed for a handhold with the other.

A blinding light filled the cockpit as the helicopter whirled through the pyramid’s beam. Eddie screwed up his eyes, dazzled for the briefest moment.

The flash faded - to reveal Shaban’s gun pointing right at his face—

Below, the Mitsubishi crashed through the pyramid’s glass side - and the cable snagged on the structure’s steel frame. The impact tossed Eddie into the empty front seat and flung Shaban against the door.

It burst open.

The fury in his eyes replaced by fear, Shaban clawed at the door frame. The gun went off in his hand, the shot punching a hole in the rear bulkhead. He dropped the weapon to get a firmer handhold. It spun down to the pyramid below.

Warning buzzers rasped urgently from the console, red lights flashing. Eddie’s gaze flicked to them to see one gauge dropping rapidly. Oil pressure. The bullet had damaged the engine.

The EC130 jolted again, straining against the cable. The canister rolled across the rear seats. Eddie and Shaban both looked at it, then each other.

Save it, or destroy it—

Eddie scrambled over the seat as Shaban dragged himself back inside. The cult leader reached the canister first, whipping it up by its handle and catching Eddie a vicious blow on his temple. Another silent explosion of light filled the cabin as the helicopter whirled back through the beam, unable to tear free of its vehicular anchor.

Shaban clutched the cylinder to his chest, kicking at Eddie. ‘You are nothing!’ he screamed. ‘You can’t beat me! I’m a god!’

‘If you’re a god,’ Eddie snarled, seeing the other man gripping the door frame, knuckles white, ‘let’s see if you can fly!’

He punched Shaban’s hand with all his might.

Pain erupted in Eddie’s fingers, skin splitting and joints crunching - but it was nothing to what Shaban felt as his hand was crushed against the hard-edged metal. The longest bone of his middle finger snapped. With a scream, he let go - and Eddie drove his bloodied fist into the Egyptian’s scarred face.

The Eurocopter swayed back into the dazzling beam . . . and Shaban fell.

Still clutching the canister, he plunged almost seventy feet down the blinding shaft of light - and hit the pyramid’s peak with a spine-splintering crack.

Eddie stared down at the splayed figure now blocking the beam, the tip of the summit poking up through his stomach. ‘Get the point?’ he yelled.

But Shaban wasn’t quite dead.

Blood streaming from the massive wound where he was impaled, he still had just enough strength to raise one hand as he tried to open the container - and scatter its deadly contents into the wind.

Eddie was no longer watching - the increasingly noisy warnings from the console had captured his attention. The oil pressure gauge was in the red, dropping rapidly. The engine was about to fail.

Wincing at the pain in his hand, he slid back across the cabin. ‘Macy! You okay?’

‘He - pulled my damn shoulder out,’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘Can you land this thing?’

‘Nope.’

‘What? But - but I thought you were some kick-ass super soldier! You mean you can’t fly a helicopter?’

‘I keep meaning to learn,’ he replied, releasing her harness, then reaching over her to open the door.

She gaped at him. ‘What’re you doing?’

‘We’ll have to jump.’

‘But we’re miles up!’

‘Not for long.’ The klaxons were overpowered by a grinding from the engine compartment. ‘When I tell you to—’

The driveshaft sheared apart. Broken metal clanged against the bulkhead like hailstones.

The helicopter fell.

‘Jump! Jump! Jump!’ Eddie roared. The rotor was still turning, slowing the fall - but with no power and no pilot, the EC130’s death plunge would only last a few seconds. He shoved the shrieking Macy out and leapt after her.

They dropped, ten feet, twenty—

And hit the pyramid’s sloping side.

The toughened glass cracked - but didn’t break. Every nerve on fire from the hard landing, Eddie slithered down the structure, Macy tumbling alongside him.

Shaban turned the lid, needing only one more small movement to open the container . . .

And froze as his pain-dulled eyes saw the helicopter plunging at him.

He screamed—

The EC130 slammed down on top of the pyramid - and continued through it, falling into the laboratory amidst pulverised glass and shredded metal. It hit the floor and exploded, a searing shockwave pounding through the chamber.

Reaching the hidden C-4.

The explosive detonated, ripping apart the gas tank. The lab was consumed by a colossal wave of fire, the entire top third of the pyramid blowing apart like the eruption of a glass volcano.

Eddie and Macy were already over halfway down. Below, Eddie saw Nina running from the blast, the Mitsubishi half buried in the wall—

‘Jump!’ he cried.

Despite her pain, Macy managed to slam her heels against the glass as Eddie did the same. He went left, she went right, passing on each side of the Shogun—

They hit the ground.

More pain exploded in Eddie’s legs as he rolled and bounced across the courtyard. He heard Macy scream again and threw himself at her, shielding her against the rain of glass with his body. More windows shattered as flying debris arced down.

The noise faded.

Bruised and bleeding, Eddie raised his head, wincing at the pain throughout his body. The pyramid’s top had gone, swallowed by boiling flames. The deadly spores were destroyed.

‘Eddie!’ More pain as he looked round, but it was slightly soothed by the sight of Nina running towards him. ‘Jesus! Are you okay?’

‘I’ll tell you when I work out if my legs are still attached,’ he rasped. ‘Macy, you all right?’

‘No,’ she said, very quietly. Nina and Eddie shared a worried look. ‘But . . . I think I will be. Eventually.’

Eddie tried to laugh, but it turned into a cough. ‘Another fucking exploding helicopter. Feels like I’m in one of Grant’s movies. Is he okay?’

‘Looks like it,’ said Nina, seeing the actor rounding the pyramid with Assad and one of the ASPS. She waved, then looked up at the building’s burning summit. ‘That’s one way to take care of a yeast infection. Kind of overkill, but looks like it worked.’

‘Bloody well better have,’ Eddie grumbled, lifting himself off Macy. ‘A pack of C-4 and a chopper blowing up? Anything in there ought to be toast.’

Nina raised her eyebrows. ‘Oh . . .’

‘What?’

‘I just realised. You took out Shaban’s spores . . . but you also toasted the bread of Osiris. The source of eternal life.’ She pondered that for a moment. ‘Still, who wants to live for ever?’

Eddie staggered upright and put his arm round her. ‘Depends who you’re living with.’

Epilogue

New York City: Three Weeks Later

Nina gazed up at the dark glass slab of the UN’s Secretariat Building as she stepped from the limo. Unlike her last visit, she had no feelings of trepidation. Quite the opposite. This time, she and Eddie were there to be honoured.

The ceremony had come about thanks to the Egyptian government. The discovery of a pyramid in the Western Desert - and the revelation that it contained the tomb of Osiris himself, turning studies of the country’s ancient mythology on their head - meant that Egyptology would become the hottest field of archaeology for the next several years. At the very least, the tourist trade was about to see a huge boom.

So the Egyptians had petitioned the UN to recognise Nina and Eddie’s achievement in uncovering the Pyramid of Osiris . . . as well as their role in stopping Shaban.

There was a distinct irony, Nina thought, to the fact that her interactions with the IHA had come full circle. The agency had been established in large part to keep the truth about attempted murder on an unimaginable scale from the public; now, the same organisation that had summarily dismissed her eight months earlier was forced to grovel for her co-operation in the investigation of another genocidal scheme.

Despite this, she still hesitated at the entrance. ‘You okay?’ Eddie asked.

‘Yeah. It’s just . . . the last two times I came to the UN, I got torn a new one by Maureen Rothschild.’

‘The only thing she’ll be doing to your arse today is kissing it,’ he assured her.

‘Good point,’ said Nina, grinning. ‘Would it be bad manners if I really rubbed it in that I was right and she was wrong?’

‘Probably. But I say bollocks to manners!’

Nina kissed him, and then they went inside.

As it turned out, she didn’t get the opportunity to say anything to Rothschild, bad-mannered or otherwise. Although Nina recognised several senior IHA staff among the UN representatives and officials in the invited audience, along with Professor Hogarth, the agency’s director was conspicuous by her absence.

But she quickly forgot the snub as the Egyptian ambassador to the United Nations, accompanied by Dr Ismail Assad, sang her praises. ‘And thanks to Dr Wilde and her husband,’ he concluded, ‘the most incredible archaeological find in Egypt in a hundred years was not only discovered, but protected.’ He nodded at some large photo blow-ups of the tomb’s interior; the mummy had been returned to its rightful resting place inside the sarcophagus, and Osir’s crushed body removed. ‘The tomb of Osiris unfortunately sustained some damage, but its contents remained unlooted. In time, the entire world will be able to see these incredible national treasures. So again, Dr Wilde, Mr Chase - on behalf of the people of Egypt, I thank you.’

Applause rippled through the room as the ambassador shook Nina’s and Eddie’s hands. ‘Thank you,’ said Nina as she stood at the microphone. ‘Thank you, Mr Ambassador, Dr Assad - and the people of Egypt, of course!’ The audience chuckled politely. ‘There’s somebody else who should be thanked, because without her bravery and determination we would never even have known the Pyramid of Osiris existed. So, Macy,’ she said, pointing her out, ‘Macy Sharif, can you stand up, please?’

Macy was in the second row, flanked by her parents; the normally shameless young woman blushed at the applause.

‘If the IHA’s Egyptology department is hiring when she graduates,’ Nina went on, ‘then she’d certainly get my recommendation, for what that’s worth!’ As the clapping subsided, Macy sat down with relief. Nina addressed the audience again. ‘But what this whole affair shows is how careful we have to be as archaeologists and historians. When we make these amazing discoveries, it’s very easy to be affected by the prospect of fame and fortune - and yes, I’ll admit to having gone down that road myself. But what happened here was because it became all about money . . . no, not money, about the prize. Somebody wanted something so badly, they cut corners to get it. And that nearly led to disaster. So I hope it will act as a warning about what happens when you put money ahead of science.’

The applause was rather more subdued this time, some faces distinctly uncomfortable. Nina hadn’t intended to deliver a finger-wagging lecture, but decided what the hell: it needed to be said. She turned to her husband. ‘Anything you want to add, Eddie?’

‘I’m not much of one for speeches,’ he said, shrugging. ‘Just glad to have helped - oh, and if someone could pay our travel expenses, that’d be great!’ The audience laughed.

‘There is one more thing,’ said Assad. An assistant handed him a polished wooden box. ‘In recognition of the discovery of the Pyramid of Osiris, the Supreme Council of Antiquities has decided to present something to the IHA. A loan, shall we say.’

He opened the box to reveal a small statuette: a crude human figure carved from an unusual purple stone. Nina didn’t recognise it, and it took Eddie a moment to realise he’d seen it before - in Osiris’s tomb. ‘It’s a slight embarrassment to admit this, considering my position,’ Assad joked, ‘but so far we have been unable to identify it - it doesn’t match any of the other artefacts in the Pyramid of Osiris, or anywhere else for that matter. Perhaps the IHA will have better luck!’ He handed the box to the bemused Nina as the audience applauded again.

‘Ah, you do remember I’m not actually with the IHA any more?’ she said from the corner of her mouth.

‘But they—Oh.’

The ambassador realised that his compatriot had made a faux pas and quickly took the mike to thank everyone for attending, leaving Nina wondering what Assad had been about to say. One of the senior UN officials, an Englishman called Sebastian Penrose, whom Nina had met a few times during the IHA’s formation, left his seat and gestured for Nina and Eddie to join him. They did so, and she looked at him suspiciously. ‘Okay, what’s going on?’

‘A slight case of gun-jumping, I’m afraid,’ Penrose replied. He signalled to an IHA official, who took the box. ‘We meant to discuss this with you after the ceremony.’

‘Discuss what?’ said Eddie.

‘Your returning to the IHA.’

‘What?’ Nina said in sarcastic disbelief. ‘After we got fired?’

‘Technically, it was a suspension, pending an official inquiry,’ Penrose said smoothly. ‘I’m, ah, quite confident the final findings will result in reinstatement with full backdated pay and benefits, as well as a compensation package.’

‘Yeah, right. I can really see Maureen Rothschild going along with that.’

‘Professor Rothschild is no longer with the IHA,’ said Penrose.

Nina was surprised. ‘Why not?’

‘She resigned yesterday. Partly because of the criminal charges the Egyptians are laying against Dr Berkeley - your statement about his change of heart means they’re likely to be lenient, but with all the other conspirators dead they still need a scapegoat. Since he was the professor’s personal choice to head the Giza dig, that was a huge embarrassment to her, and a sign of poor judgement. Which reflects on her other decisions - such as suspending you.’

‘And the other part?’ Eddie asked.

‘The other part is that you, Dr Wilde, sent her an email describing how the robbery of the Hall of Records would be carried out before it actually happened - and she ignored it. She deleted it, in fact, but it turned out someone else had a copy.’

‘Remind me to send Lola a huge thank-you gift,’ said Nina. ‘So, you want me to come back. What about Eddie?’

‘Mr Chase will be reinstated too, of course. And there’s another matter: with Professor Rothschild gone, the IHA is currently without a director. You have experience from when you served as Interim Director . . .’

Eddie nudged her. ‘Hey, not bad. They don’t just want you back - they’re offering you a promotion!’

‘But do we really want to go back?’ she asked him, though her eyes made her answer obvious. He grinned.

‘The offer will remain open,’ said Penrose. He handed Nina his card. ‘For a while, at least. Call me when you make a decision.’ He shook their hands and walked away, the official holding the box following.

‘Well, bloody hell,’ said Eddie. ‘They just can’t manage without us, can they?’

‘Hey, we’ve gotten pretty good at this kind of thing by now. But you know what’s most important? We’ll be able to move back to Manhattan!’

He jokingly rolled his eyes. ‘Great. Ridiculous rent, crowds, noise, traffic . . .’

‘I can’t wait!’

‘Tchah,’ said Eddie, amused. ‘There’s one good thing, though - I’ll be able to afford that wedding reception!’

‘We’ll be able to afford it,’ Nina corrected him. ‘And maybe I’ll join you for some dancing lessons.’

They left the stage to be met by Macy and her parents. ‘So what was all that about?’ Macy asked once the introductions had been made.

‘He was making us an offer,’ said Nina.

‘Like a job offer?’ Macy asked excitedly. ‘Oh my God, that’s awesome! Are you going to take it?’

‘Weeeell,’ said Eddie, with an exaggerated shrug, ‘we haven’t quite decided.’

‘But,’ Nina added, ‘you remember that I recommended you for a position at the IHA when you graduate?’ Macy nodded. ‘I think it’s safe to say that if you wanted it it’d be yours.’

The young woman’s face lit up. ‘Really? Oh, wow! Then I’ll try to be interested in more than just Egyptology. Even the Mongolian toothpicks. Thank you!’ She embraced Nina.

Eddie watched for a moment. ‘So can I join in and finally get my threesome?’

‘Eddie!’ both women shouted, Macy blushing again as she gestured to remind him that her parents were standing three feet away. But then she hugged him too.

‘So what are you going to do now?’ Macy asked as they separated.

‘I’m not sure yet,’ said Nina. She smiled. ‘But I think we’re going to be busy.’