Immortal

68

Saffron Oppenheimer leapt out of Lieutenant Zamora’s patrol car before it had even stopped rolling, sprinting away up the hillside track toward Misery Hole at a terrific pace. Butch Cutler and Enrico Zamora labored after her in pursuit, but she gave them no quarter as she raced ever upward and then came to a sliding halt at the dizzying edge of Misery Hole.

She spotted the rope-ladders hastily rigged at the edge of the shaft nearby, and rushed around the edge before clambering onto the nearest one and hurriedly climbing down into the shadows. From her vantage point high above the floor of Misery Hole, she could see what was happening. Some kind of gunfight had filled the floor of the cavern with thick smoke that boiled up around her, stinging her eyes and choking her throat, but it also concealed her presence as she slid the last few feet to the ground behind the massed ranks of Oppenheimer’s mercenaries, all aiming assault weapons at a low cave slicing across one wall of Misery Hole.

Saffron didn’t wait for Lieutenant Zamora or Butch Cutler to reach her. Instead she charged at full sprint past the crouching ranks of soldiers toward where her grandfather writhed and twisted in the hands of an old man with a thick moustache, a stick of dynamite grasped in one bony-looking hand.

‘No!’ Saffron shouted, her arms outstretched as she ran. ‘Don’t kill him! There has to be a better way!’

Jeb Oppenheimer’s crinkled jaw fell open as he stared in amazement at Saffron.

Kip Wren yelled, ‘Stay aback, ma’am! I ain’t bluffin’!’

‘What the hell are you doing down here?’ Oppenheimer said. ‘This isn’t your business, Saffy, get out of the way.’

‘It’s my goddamned business now, Grandpa,’ Saffron shot back, ‘ever since I went to the police. They know everything.’

Oppenheimer stared at her for a moment longer.

‘You wouldn’t.’ He smirked. ‘You wouldn’t risk the jail time.’

The voice that answered came from behind them all. ‘Yes she would.’

Oppenheimer, Hoffman and the mercenaries turned to see Zamora standing behind them in full uniform, his pistol aimed at Oppenheimer. ‘It’s over, Jeb, no matter what happens. The entire New Mexico Police Department is on its way here right now.’

Butch Cutler stood alongside Zamora, clearly not intimidated by the mercenaries as he aimed a large Colt revolver at them.

‘So is USAMRIID,’ he reported. ‘This whole thing’s been blown sky-high.’

Oppenheimer appeared completely overwhelmed, unable to speak. Saffron stared at him in horror.

‘How could you do it?’ she asked. ‘All those millions of people? You’re planning to kill them all.’

Oppenheimer’s features hardened again as he took his eyes off the dynamite at his belly.

‘It will happen sooner or later all on its own,’ he spat back at her. ‘I’m just controlling the situation.’

‘You can’t control nature!’ Saffron wailed. ‘It’s not possible!’

‘Either way,’ Butch Cutler said, ‘it’s not going to happen. No pandemic, no population control, no nothing. It’s over. The police will be here any moment.’

Hoffman peered suspiciously at Cutler.

‘If so,’ he asked, ‘then where the hell are they?’

Neither Cutler nor Zamora replied.

Saffron looked at the old soldier holding her grandfather hostage. His face was twisted in upon itself in agony, sweat thick on his brow and his legs trembling with the effort of staying upright. She took a careful pace forward.

‘I can help you,’ she said. ‘Let him go and we can get you to a hospital.’

Kip Wren glared at her, but his strength was failing and she saw in his expression the realization that he was out of time. He smiled at her, almost regretfully.

‘Apologies, ma’am,’ he said through gritted teeth, ‘but I can’t do that.’

The old soldier’s hands twisted, and she saw him light the dynamite stick’s fuse in a flash of sparks and smoke.

Saffron hurled herself at Kip Wren and threw a fast right jab that drove her fingers into Wren’s eyes. The old soldier shrieked and jerked backwards, and as he did so Saffron smashed her hands down across the smoldering dynamite stick and yanked it from Kip Wren’s hands. Instantly, half a dozen soldiers plunged down onto Kip in a frenzied tangle of limbs and shouts, binding his arms and legs.

Saffron hurled the hissing dynamite stick into the depths of Lechuguilla Cave and whirled toward her grandfather.

‘Get down!’

To her surprise, the mercenaries and Jeb Oppenheimer ignored her and fled away from the entrance to Lechuguilla Cave in a chaotic tumble. Confused, Saffron turned and saw the dynamite stick come whirling back out of the darkness to land at her feet.

‘Oh shit.’

Saffron turned and ran hard, hurling herself flat to the ground behind scattered rocks as the dynamite exploded with a deafening boom and hurled the severed body parts of dead mercenaries in all directions to land with soggy thumps around her. She staggered to her feet, her ears ringing and pink blood spots staining her white T-shirt. She heard a laugh echo around the chamber as Jeb Oppenheimer struggled to his feet from behind a boulder and slapped his spindly thigh with one hand as he looked down at the cave entrance.

‘We’ve got our man!’ he shouted, and turned to Hoffman. ‘Kill them all.’

Hoffman, his M-16 rifle once again cradled in his grip, grinned and strode toward Jeb Oppenheimer. One huge hand reached out and gripped the old man by the throat with enough force to bulge his eyes. Oppenheimer gagged in shock as he was lifted onto his toes, his cane still dangling from his wrist.

‘Your time, old man,’ Hoffman hissed, ‘is over.’

With a heave of effort, Hoffman turned and hurled Oppenheimer toward Lechuguilla Cave, the old man’s limbs flailing as he tumbled through the desert dust to land in a heap near the entrance. A ripple of grim laughs from Hoffman’s men followed him.

Saffron stared in disbelief at Hoffman. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

Hoffman ignored her as he turned to Cutler and Zamora.

‘Drop your weapons and get in that cave or we’ll blow you away right here and now.’

Half of the mercenaries whirled and trained their assault rifles on Cutler and Zamora. Cutler looked at them and then glanced across at Zamora.

‘Fancy going down in a blaze of glory?’

‘Not so much.’

Cutler slowly lowered his revolver as he called out to Hoffman.

‘Whatever Wolfe is paying you, it won’t be nearly enough to get you out of this.’

Hoffman appeared unimpressed. ‘I don’t really care,’ he said with a grim smile that conveyed an utter ruthlessness. ‘Because neither of you will be around to report anything, and we’ll be gone within minutes.’

Hoffman gestured to his men, and they disarmed Cutler and Zamora and shoved them down toward the depths of the cave. They stumbled in the darkness as they struggled to see their way. Saffron hurried down with them and took her grandfather’s arm. Oppenheimer struggled to his feet, steadied himself with his cane and turned to glare up at Hoffman.

‘I’ll pay you double,’ he shouted, ‘triple, whatever you want!’

Hoffman shook his head.

‘You’re a damned fool, old man,’ he shouted. ‘You think that you’re powerful because you’re rich, but you’re a small fish in a very big pond and I work for the sharks. You’re nothing, Oppenheimer, a nobody compared to who I work for!’

Hoffman turned away, and looked at one of the soldiers next to him.

‘Don’t shoot any of them. We need this to look like an accident. Get the explosives out and blow the cave. It’ll hide any evidence that they were here at all, and if we need anything in the future we can come back when they’ve all rotted to hell.’