The Revelation Code

34

Mecca rolled far below the Englishman, the wind screaming in his ears as he fell—

He hit the clock’s long hand and grabbed at it in terrified desperation. He jolted to a halt, the fifty-six-foot pointer digging hard against his armpits as he dangled from its upper edge.

But he was far from safe. The clock’s hands were as elaborately decorated as the rest of the enormous timepiece, but the curlicued gold details were simply applied to the surface, offering no grip. And he could feel the whole thing shaking from both the impact of his landing and the vibrations of the overloading motor. He kicked backwards, trying to brace himself against the clock, but managed only to break off LEDs set into the sheer face.

Still clutching the angel, Eddie strained to raise himself higher. If he could secure the statue inside his jacket, he might be able to climb back to the hole—

The clock hand jolted, almost shaking him loose. He squeezed both arms against it to pin himself in place. But he still began to slide sideways… and downwards.

The minute hand was moving — and at a much faster rate than sixty seconds per minute. Loud cracks came from the gear mechanism at the hub’s end as teeth were stripped from an overstressed cog—

An explosive bang of shearing metal, and the long hand swung freely from its axle, six tons of steel and composites sweeping down towards the vertical. Eddie slithered along its edge — until it dropped out from under him.

He plunged, both raised arms scrabbling helplessly for a hold—

His feet hit a jagged slab of carbon fibre. It snapped under his weight, but slowed him for the fraction of a second he needed to thrust his left arm into the crack down the clock hand’s damaged rear.

Broken shards tore through his jacket and slashed his skin, making him scream, yet he still managed to grab a thick skein of wiring. Some of the LEDs embedded in the front of the huge pointer tore out, but more held. He jerked to a stop as the minute hand swung pendulously back and forth over the six o’clock position.

Eddie gasped for breath. Directly below him was the observation deck. He saw the curved supports of the protective netting, and considered letting go and dropping on to it, before realising that would be suicide. The net was pulled drum-tight; falling on to it from this height would be like landing on a trampoline, catapulting him over the edge.

But the hand’s tip was less than fifteen feet above the netting. If he climbed down further, he might make it…

A fierce jolt cancelled all thought beyond holding on. He looked up. The entire axle assembly was visibly shaking, more fragments of the ruptured clock face falling past him. The wind drew a streamer of smoke out through the hole; it became darker and thicker as he watched, swirling away into the sky. The overloading motor was catching fire.

Simeon appeared at the opening. He looked down, expression changing to an almost offended anger as he saw Eddie still alive below. He ducked back inside with a barely suppressed obscenity, returning holding a broken metal spar — which he threw at the Englishman.

Eddie whipped his right arm above his head just fast enough to take the painful blow. If it had struck his skull, it would have knocked him senseless. The steel bar fell away, bouncing off the netting to be flung into the void.

Another violent shudder. He managed to jam the statue inside his jacket before taking hold of a carbon-fibre spearhead with his right hand, forcing himself to ignore the pain as it cut his palm.

Above him, the hour hand was now rocking violently against the axle like a ruler twanged on the edge of a desk. More panels in the clock face buckled outwards. The smoke grew more dense, and even over the wind he could hear a fearsome electrical growl. It wasn’t just the clock’s motor: the overload was feeding back into the transformers powering it, and he knew from experience that could have explosive results.

The same thought occurred to Simeon. A concerned glance back into the room, then he leaned out and gripped both edges of the minute hand. ‘You might as well let go!’ he called down to Eddie as he held himself in place, then pressed the insteps of his boots hard against the pointer’s sides. ‘Because it’ll hurt a lot more if I have to come down there!’

‘And I thought suicide was a sin!’ Eddie shot back.

‘Don’t worry — you were always going to Hell!’ The American started a controlled descent towards him.

Eddie looked back at the netting. It now offered his only chance of survival, but he had to get to the bottom of the clock’s hand before Simeon caught up. He shifted position, easing his grip on the wires — only to clamp his fingers tight again as the pointed carbon shard in his right hand creaked menacingly under his weight. Blood oozed as the sharp edges sliced his skin.

Simeon came closer, muscles visibly straining with the effort of holding on, but he showed no signs of slipping. He was now only six feet above the Englishman. Above him, the escaping smoke turned black. ‘Hey, how you hanging?’ he said with a malevolent grin.

Eddie searched for a better handhold, but the only possibilities were either too fragile to support him, or even more razor-edged. And now Simeon was upon him—

One foot swiped down, grazing the back of his left hand. It was only an exploratory attack, the American unsure if he could maintain his hold — but the second strike, with his other foot, was more confident. The carbon shard Eddie was holding snapped off at the base as Simeon’s heel stamped down on his knuckles. The Yorkshireman swung and fell a few inches as more wires in his left hand ripped away before the remaining ones again just barely caught his weight.

Simeon lowered himself further, about to smash his foot down on the other man’s head—

Eddie stabbed the composite spearhead deep into his calf.

Simeon screamed, almost losing his grip. Eddie twisted his makeshift dagger deeper into his flesh, then tugged at his ankle as hard as he could. The American’s hands slipped down the pointer’s edges. ‘Time’s up!’ Eddie yelled—

The cultist finally lost his hold and fell — only to slam to a stop after barely a foot. Another protruding carbon spike had caught him, impaling him up through his abdomen and behind his ribcage. He shrieked, blood and stomach fluids gushing from the wound.

A loud detonation from above. The whole clock shuddered as if kicked by a giant. Eddie looked past the flailing American to see flames belch out of the hole, dirty smoke spewing from the widening gaps between the panels. The machinery was on the verge of destroying itself, the hub about to rip away and take the long fall to the ground.

Still gripping Simeon’s leg, Eddie released his hold on the wires and hurriedly clamped his hand around the pointer’s edge. He followed the American’s example, pressing his insteps against its sides, then let go of the other man — and dropped.

He managed to grab the edge with his right hand as he fell, but his palm was slick with blood. He squeezed harder, but wasn’t slowing fast enough, the great pointer narrowing to just two feet wide at its tip… and then nothing.

Eddie plummeted towards the balcony—

The netting caught him — but it was drawn so tightly that it felt almost solid, pounding the breath from his lungs. He clawed at the nylon lines as the rebound threw him towards the edge, finding grip with one hand. Fingers clenched so tightly he could have crushed coal into diamond, he flipped over, landing hard on his back. Muscles and tendons strained to their limit, arm joints almost wrenching from their sockets…

But they held.

He bounced once, twice, then came to rest on top of the mesh. Gasping, he looked up. Simeon was still pinned gruesomely to the minute hand, his screams echoing down the building.

Another blast from the machine room — and the centre of the clock face disintegrated as the hub was ripped out of the motor, dragging girders and lighting panels with it. Both hands toppled forward — then the tip of the minute hand hit the elaborate golden relief around the clock’s circumference and flung the entire assembly outwards, away from the tower’s face.

Simeon was still screaming as he fell past Eddie. ‘I should’ve said “Time’s down!”’ the Englishman yelled after him. Seconds passed — then a colossal crunching boom reached him as the clock hands smashed apart a quarter of a mile below, their unwilling passenger reduced to a bloody pulp amidst the storm of carbon shards.

Eddie caught his breath, then groped inside his jacket. The statue was still there. ‘Thank God,’ he said, before looking at the Grand Mosque below. ‘Or thank Allah. Or Yahweh, or whatever he’s called.’ He rolled over to get a hold on the netting with both hands—

Twang!

The tightly stretched net jerked beneath him — and he suddenly found himself slipping towards the balcony’s edge. Falling debris had ripped the mesh, and now the rest of it was tearing free from the support posts, one strand after another breaking with an insistent ping-ping-ping of snapping nylon.

‘Oh, come on!’ he cried, pulling himself up hand over hand, but the netting was rolling towards the void faster than he could climb. The observation deck slithered past behind his outstretched arms, followed by the balustrade—

Hands locked around his wrists.

Eddie raised his head to see al Farhan braced against the low wall, teeth bared with the strain of holding him. He shouted in Arabic; several policemen ran over and raised the Yorkshireman on to the balcony.

‘Thanks,’ he wheezed, looking around. The observation platform was strewn with debris, but he was relieved that the tourists had all been evacuated. He hoped the same was true at ground level.

‘What happened?’ al Farhan demanded. ‘Where is Rajhi — and did you get the statue?’

‘I got it,’ Eddie replied wearily, producing it from his jacket. ‘Rajhi’s in the clock’s machine room; he’s hurt. So are some other people. You need to get paramedics up there.’

The Saudi prince issued orders, then regarded the figure in Eddie’s hands. ‘So that is the angel? Is it safe?’

‘I think so,’ he said, checking it for signs of damage and finding none. ‘That’s one taken care of. I hope we can do the same for number two…’