The Sacred Vault

The stairway ended here, but they still had higher to climb. Nina and Eddie were escorted along a short hallway to another set of stairs, this one spiralling upwards through the building’s central core to the giant dome. It took them via a distinctly industrial level, large - and from their appearance, Cold War vintage - electrical transformers emitting menacing hums. They had once fed power to the giant radar antenna; now they supplied energy to the 360-degree lightshow that had replaced it.

‘Dr Wilde!’ called a familiar voice as they trooped into the infotarium. ‘And Mr Chase, too.’ Pramesh Khoil stood with his wife atop a circular platform at the dome’s centre.

Vanita regarded them with disgust. ‘Why are they still alive?’

‘They have gone through a lot to be here, Vanita,’ said Khoil. Smug pride blossomed on his face as he waved a theatrical hand at the giant projection displays. ‘Bring them to the walkway. We may as well let them witness the end of the Kali Yuga.’

‘You are showing off,’ she said in a scolding tone as Zec, Tandon and the guard marched Nina and Eddie up to the circular walkway. ‘We should just kill them.’

‘Soon, my beloved, soon,’ he replied, looking up at the two screens displaying the view from the aircraft. The city lights drifted across the picture as the plane continued its long circle. His gaze shifted to the news feed. ‘But it is almost time to begin - the G20 leaders have all arrived.’

‘That’s your plan?’ Nina asked, appalled. ‘You’re going to crash a plane on to the summit?’

‘You won’t have a chance,’ said Eddie. ‘Twenty world leaders in one place, including the American, Russian and Chinese presidents? If there’s a fucking sparrow in the air over Delhi, it’ll have a missile locked on to it.’

‘That is Delhi,’ said Khoil, nodding at the screens. ‘My drone is circling on automatic pilot fifteen kilometres west of the Rashtrapati Bhavan. Nobody knows it is even there.’

‘You’ve got a stealth plane?’ Eddie said in disbelief.

‘There are advantages to owning a stake in a military aircraft company. Stealth is a major area of research. I have access to that research, and have put it to better use than any government project.’

Nina remembered what she had seen at the Khoils’ palace. ‘Wait, this plane of yours - dark grey, propeller at the back, weird-looking? ’

‘Yes. I was test-flying it at night.’ He raised one hand, palm flat, and tilted it to the left; the airborne images followed suit. ‘It takes a little getting used to, but I have mastered the controls. A shame this will be its last flight. It is fun.’ He lowered his hand. After a moment, the horizon tipped back. ‘As you see, when I am not controlling it directly it follows its default programming, which currently is to fly a standby orbit. Once I fly it past a certain point, though, it has another program.’

‘A kamikaze run,’ guessed Eddie.

‘Correct. Even if I lose communication, it will still carry out its mission. But for maximum effect, precise timing will be needed.’ He indicated the news feed, which showed a floodlit stage. As yet, the only people on it were technicians making final preparations. ‘I do not know exactly when the G20 leaders will assemble for their photocall. As soon as they start to appear, I will begin. The computers can guide the plane to the right spot, but only I can choose the most devastating moment.’

‘You finally admit there are things humans can do better than computers, and that’s your example?’ said Nina.

‘There is an irony to it. But after the explosion, everyone in the world will seek answers - and Qexia will provide them.’

Her voice filled with scorn. ‘The wrong answers.’

‘Qexia does not lie,’ Khoil replied, displeased at the implied insult. ‘It simply weights the results according to user expectations. In India, it will seem that Pakistani militants carried out the attack. In Pakistan, India will be seen as falsely accusing an Islamic power that has been pointedly excluded from the G20.’

‘Anger will rise,’ continued Vanita. ‘People in both countries will demand action - they will demand blood! War will start between India and Pakistan, and it will escalate into a nuclear conflict. Once that happens, the violence will spread. Country against country, East against West, Hindu against Muslim, Muslim against Christian. The world will burn.’ Her face twisted with a terrible smile of satisfaction.

‘Not everybody gets their information from Qexia,’ Nina pointed out. ‘And not everybody’s driven by rage and vengeance, either - however corrupt and decadent you think they’ve become. You won’t start World War Three from just one event, even something this big.’

‘We do not need to,’ said Khoil. ‘A global nuclear war is only a forty-two per cent probability . . . but there is a ninety-nine per cent probability that the networks of finance and trade vital to modern civilisation will collapse. The effect will be the same.’ He took position at the virtual controls. ‘You are a historian, Dr Wilde. But this is the end of history. The start of a new age. Our new age. Enlightened . . . purified. A new Satya Yuga.’

On the news feed, the technicians cleared the stage. The camera panned across to a doorway, from which officials emerged. Camera flashes lit up the area like strobes.

‘They’re coming out,’ said Vanita excitedly, grabbing her husband’s arm.

He lifted her hand away. ‘Vanita, my beloved, I need you to clear the platform so I can fly the vimana. It would be unfortunate if you nudged me and made it crash short of the target.’ She was annoyed by his undercurrent of sarcasm, but descended the steps to the circular walkway, where she stood beside Tandon.

Khoil raised both hands, paused for a moment like a conductor preparing to cue an orchestra . . . then clenched them as if gripping invisible controls. The view from the cameras tilted sharply as the stealth plane banked. The artificial horizon matched the move, a green line indicating the course to the presidential residence swinging into sight.

Text also appeared at the bottom of the screens. TIME TO TARGET: 04:02. The number counted down. 04:01, 04:00, 03:59 . . .

34

Nina stared at the screens in horror as the Indian president and prime minister made their way to the stage. ‘If you do this, millions of people will die - and a lot of them will be in your own country!’

‘They will be reborn in the next cycle,’ Khoil said, eyes fixed on the view from the aircraft. ‘And they will be born into a better world.’

She had no counter to that. Khoil was a man set in his beliefs, and there were no words she could use to change his mind. Only action would make a difference now. ‘We’ve got to stop him,’ she whispered to Eddie.

‘Yeah, I got that.’ If he could reach the upper platform, he could disrupt the plane’s flight by punching out Khoil and taking over the virtual controls, crashing it somewhere safe - or at least forcing it to return to its failsafe orbit until the world leaders were back indoors.

Getting on to the platform, though, was the problem. There were three men with guns there to stop him.

Unless he could make it two men . . .

‘You’re Bosnian, right?’ he asked Zec in an almost conversational tone, to the mercenary’s surprise. ‘The country’s pretty much half and half Christians and Muslims, isn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ said Zec, suspicious. ‘Why?’

‘Well, that part of the world’s had some . . . well, problems between different ethnic groups. It might have calmed down now, but this’ll start it right back up again.’ He indicated the Khoils, both fixated on the big screens. ‘Your bosses just said that’s what they were after.’

‘That is not my concern,’ Zec said, but the idea, having taken root, was clearly troubling him.

‘It’ll be your wife and son’s concern, though. You said they live in Sarajevo. That’s not exactly high on the list of cities people associate with peace and harmony and good times.’ Eddie’s expression hardened. ‘They’re going to die. And you’ll have helped it happen.’

Vanita glared angrily at them. ‘Enough! Zec, go back to security.’ She addressed the guard, jabbing a red-nailed finger at Nina and Eddie. ‘You. Shoot these two.’

The guard pushed past Zec, raising his gun - but Tandon intervened. ‘Please, let me.’ He smiled coldly. ‘I have been looking forward to this.’

‘All right,’ said Vanita. ‘But quickly.’

Eddie gave Zec a look. ‘Last chance for your son to be proud of you.’

Tandon advanced, pocketing his gun . . . and raised his hands to deliver a lethal martial arts strike. ‘It will be quick,’ he assured Vanita, ‘but not painless.’

‘Good,’ she said. ‘Do it.’ The countdown on the screen reached three minutes.

Tandon stepped closer. Nina gripped Eddie’s hand—

A spray of blood and brain matter splattered across the dome as Zec shot the guard in the back of the head.

Eddie pushed Nina down, crouching to give Zec a clear shot at Tandon as the dead guard fell. His MP5K clattered to the floor ten feet below, skidding away to end up near the spiral staircase.

Zec fired again - and Tandon dodged, twisting aside. The bullet missed him by barely a centimetre. Zec tracked him, releasing another shot as the Indian dived under the railing, grabbing the edge of the walkway as he fell and flipping himself underneath it. Eddie heard soft clanks from below; Tandon was hanging from the catwalk’s underside, effortlessly swinging parkour-style along its supporting scaffold. Zec backed up, gun darting from side to side in expectation of an attack.

Eddie ran past Nina. Vanita hurriedly retreated, but he ignored her, instead pounding up the curved stairs to the upper platform. ‘Ay up,’ he said to Khoil. The billionaire’s plump face filled with fear. ‘Can I play?’

Nina jumped up, raising her fists as she charged at Vanita. While no expert at unarmed combat, she had still received enough training from her husband to throw a good punch - and this one would be particularly satisfying. Vanita turned and ran, Nina pursuing her round the walkway.

Tandon’s head briefly popped up into Zec’s view. He fired, but the Indian had already ducked out of sight with snake-like speed. The Bosnian shifted his aim, shooting at the floor. Four bullets punched holes through the metal plating with shrill spangs - but Tandon was too fast. A clank of something falling as he swept hand over hand along the scaffold, then in an acrobatic, almost gravity-defying move, he swung back up feet-first under the railing - and drove a crunching kick into Zec’s stomach. The mercenary flew backwards, crashing against the outer railing—

It gave way. Zec tumbled over the edge. His neck cracked horribly as he landed head-first, flopping limply to the floor. The broken length of railing clanged down beside him.

Khoil backed away as Eddie approached. He reached the edge of the platform and cowered, with nowhere to run. On the big screens, the view of Delhi tipped sharply, the drone swinging back round towards its standby orbit now that it was no longer receiving control signals. ‘You - you can’t stop—’

Eddie punched him hard in the face. Khoil spun off the platform, landing with a crash on the walkway below, smooth skin now marred by a smear of blood from his split lips.

Wiping his knuckles on his coat, Eddie moved to the centre of the platform and raised his hands. ‘Okay, let’s see how this works . . .’ He spread his fingers as he had seen Khoil do and tilted one hand experimentally. The horizon on the screen followed his movement. ‘Yes!’ He looked for somewhere amongst the city’s lights that would be safe enough to crash the drone.

A black line ran across both images. A river.

‘Let’s make a splash,’ he said, tipping his hand forwards as if pushing an imaginary joystick. The drone began to descend.

Tandon ran to help Khoil, but the billionaire shouted, ‘No! Up there, stop Chase!’

Nina was fast gaining on Vanita, who was trying to run on two-inch heels. ‘Get your ass back here!’ she shouted. They had completely circled the walkway, reaching the broken section of railing. Vanita jumped through the gap, landing beside Zec.

Nina leapt after her, aiming to knock her down - but Vanita scrambled clear, one of her shoes flying off. Rolling as she landed, Nina jumped up—

To see Vanita going for the dead guard’s MP5K.

She dived at her, tackling the sari-clad woman just before she reached it and slamming her to the floor.

The river grew steadily larger - but Eddie was forced to abandon the controls as Tandon rushed at him. The drone climbed steeply back to its failsafe altitude.

Eddie and Tandon circled each other. The Englishman raised his fists. Tandon brought up his own hands, fingers together like axe-heads - then a flash of triumph crossed his face as he remembered he had a gun. He reached for it—

Finding nothing but an empty pocket. It had fallen out when he was swinging from the walkway.

Eddie lunged, a powerful punch steaming at Tandon’s jaw.

The Indian whipped his head back, the blow only grazing his chin. He snapped up an arm to hook Eddie’s as it passed, then whirled, simultaneously slamming an elbow against the other man’s head and painfully twisting his shoulder.

Eddie staggered as Tandon released him, turning to face his enemy - and a roundhouse kick crunched into his sternum. He reeled backwards . . .

And fell off the platform.

Like Khoil, he landed with a bang on the metal walkway - but unlike the software mogul, his plunge didn’t end there as he slid under the railing and dropped another ten feet to the chamber’s floor. Pain coursing through his shoulder and chest, he lay on his back, winded.

Nina grappled with Vanita, thumping a punch into her kidneys. Vanita shrieked, lashing out with one hand - and slashing Nina across her left cheek with a ring. Face stinging from the cut, Nina flinched back as the red talons clawed at her eyes.

Her retreat gave the other woman the chance to twist and kick her in the stomach. Nina gasped, doubling over. ‘You think I’m weak?’ Vanita snarled, another strike catching the side of Nina’s head. ‘I know how to fight - I grew up in the slums!’ She scrabbled for the gun—

Nina grabbed her trailing sari and yanked her back, stamping down hard on her bare foot with a heavy boot. Vanita screamed as her little toe broke. Nina swung her round, drawing back her fist. ‘And I’m from New York, bitch!’

She slammed a punch into her face. Spitting blood, Vanita fell beside Zec. Shaking out her aching hand, Nina stood and turned to find the gun. It lay about ten feet away. She started towards it—

The broken length of railing cracked against her knee as Vanita swung it like a baseball bat. Nina stumbled, almost falling. The metal tube whooshed at her again as Vanita limped after her.

Khoil hurried up the steps, a hand to his bloodied mouth. Tandon moved to help him, but was waved back. ‘Kill him, kill him!’ the billionaire screeched. His bodyguard jumped down to the walkway as he took his position at the invisible controls once more.

Eddie was struggling upright when he heard a crash from above as Tandon landed. The Indian vaulted the railing - flying straight at him. With a yelp, Eddie rolled sideways. A heel slammed down where his head had just been.

More world leaders were on the stage, the smaller nations being introduced first. The president of South Korea shook hands with his hosts, flashing cameras recording the moment. The countdown had been affected by Eddie’s hijacking of the controls, but it was still ticking away as Khoil brought the drone back on course.

Three minutes, thirty-two seconds to impact.

The railing clanged dully against Nina’s forearm as she shielded her head from Vanita’s attack. She held in a cry of pain, retreating from another blow - and backing into the enormous video wall. Unlike the one in Bangalore, which was divided into segments to allow access, this infotarium formed an unbroken three hundred and sixty degree circle inside the dome. The aluminium framework rattled with the impact, one of the LCD screens flickering as it was jolted.

Teeth bared, Vanita swiped the makeshift club at her—

Nina dived sideways. The railing smashed one of the screens behind her, its backlight panel blowing out with a bang and a sputter of sparks. The broken display crashed to the floor, exposing the geodesic fibreglass panels of the radome behind it.

Tandon kicked Eddie hard in the side, bowling him across the floor to the stairs leading up to the walkway. Wheezing, Eddie used them to clamber to his feet - as his attacker thrust a killing blow at his chest.

Even battered and winded, he had enough strength to jerk aside. The blow missed the lethal pressure point, but still hit his ribcage agonisingly hard. He staggered backwards as Tandon struck again, and again, aiming for his throat, his heart. Each time, he was just barely able to parry the blows, but all that did was shift the pain to his arms. And Tandon wasn’t even breaking a sweat - the bastard was playing with him, wearing him down little by little until he was unable to defend himself.

Khoil glanced at the two fights playing out below, but remained fixated on the screens. The Japanese prime minister walked to the stage. Three minutes, ten seconds.

Vanita swung the railing again, knocking Nina against another screen. She raised the club high over her head, about to smash it down on Nina’s skull—

Nina grabbed one of her earrings and pulled. Hard.

The piece of jewellery tore away from Vanita’s ear - with a chunk of lobe the size of a thumbnail still hooked on it.

Vanita screamed as blood gushed down her neck. Nina seized her by her sari and yanked with all her strength, slamming Vanita face-first through the gap between the screens - and into the triangular panel behind it.

The fibreglass broke apart with a splintering crack. A freezing wind blasted through the hole, frost and condensation instantly forming on the inside of the dome and the nearby screens. Vanita pulled back - and screamed even louder as the panel’s razor-sharp edges ripped into her cheeks like bear claws. The railing clunked to the floor.

‘Vanita!’ Khoil cried. But he didn’t move to help her, his mission the higher priority. He adjusted the drone’s course slightly. The countdown reached 02:50.

Nina snatched up the railing and was about to clout Vanita with it when she realised there was someone who needed it more. ‘Eddie! Catch!’

She hurled it across the dome like a javelin.

Eddie fended off another blow, looked up, saw the railing arcing towards him - and caught it. He spun and swung it at Tandon’s head. Suddenly on the defensive, Tandon jumped back, protectively whipping up an arm. The railing cracked painfully against his wrist.

Eddie swung his new weapon again, the reversal of fortune filling him with a surge of energy. ‘That’s more fucking like it!’ He forced Tandon towards the wall. The Indian tried to dart away, but Eddie hit his shoulder, knocking him back into the support frame. It shook, rattling the video screens. ‘Oi! I’m not finished with you!’

‘Yes!’ Nina cried triumphantly as her husband turned the tables - only for Vanita to throw herself at her with a shriek, overcome with rage as blood ran down her ruined face. She slammed the American back against the video wall, driving a knee up into her stomach. Nina groaned, winded - and Vanita clamped her hands round her throat. The fingers tightened, taloned thumbs digging deep into her neck.

Eddie attacked again, the metal pole thudding against the Indian’s ribs. He grinned nastily as his opponent’s face twisted in pain. A couple more blows would knock Tandon down, and then he could deal with Khoil. He pulled back the railing for another swing—

Tandon leapt - and grabbed a horizontal cross-member above. He pulled himself sharply upwards, swinging his legs up like a trapeze artist as the pole whipped past an inch beneath him. He hooked one foot round a strut, using the support to haul himself round, spider-like, and climb higher.

Eddie swung again, but Tandon was just out of reach. The railing smashed a video screen, which fell to the floor with a bang. Tandon glared down at him as he clambered across the framework. Its aluminium joints squeaked and juddered under his weight.

The projector rig at the top of the dome also shook, causing the images on the big screens to wobble. Khoil glanced round to find the cause of the disruption. 02:25 remaining on the countdown.

The framework had been designed to support the screens and the overhead rig, Eddie realised - nothing more. The extra weight of a grown man was straining it to its limit . . .

He swung his makeshift bat - not at Tandon, but at the exposed metal structure where the screen had fallen away. A vertical strut broke at the joint with a sharp snap of metal. A whole section of the framework jolted violently, screens flickering. The projector rig lurched. Khoil looked round again, this time in alarm as Eddie kept bashing at the weakened frame. Another screen broke from its mount, swinging on its power cord before shattering on the floor. ‘Chapal! Stop him!’

Tandon dived at the Englishman from above, deadly hands outstretched like claws—

Eddie whipped up the pole.

Fear flashed in Tandon’s eyes - but too late.

The broken end of the railing punched through his chest, spearing out through his back with a gout of blood. Even impaled, though, he still knocked Eddie down, dead weight slamming him to the floor.

Both Khoils stared at the length of metal jutting from their bodyguard’s back in disbelief. ‘Chapal!’ Vanita cried, for a moment the woman she was choking forgotten—

Nina drove the heel of her palm up against Vanita’s chin. The Indian woman’s open mouth snapped shut - catching the end of her tongue between her teeth. Vanita spat out blood, a half-inch of muscle hanging only by a few threads of mangled tissue.

‘Bite your tongue!’ Nina gasped, throwing a punch. It only caught Vanita a glancing blow on the cheek, but it was enough to make her stagger backwards and slip on the film of frost that had formed on the metal floor as the icy wind shrilled through the hole in the dome. She stumbled . . .

Landing beside the MP5K.

Vanita grabbed the gun and jumped up—

Nina dived at her, skidding on her stomach along the frost. She wrapped both arms round Vanita’s ankles and twisted. Already unbalanced by her missing shoe, Vanita staggered and fell . . .

Down the stairs.

She screamed - then the cry was cut off abruptly by an echoing bang as she hit hard metal. More thumps followed as she tumbled down the steps. The MP5K fired at each impact, bursts of bullets clanging off the machinery. A fierce eruption of sparks came from one transformer as a round shattered an insulator, the resulting short circuit causing an angry, sizzling hum to rise within it. Several screens in the dome above flickered. But Vanita didn’t hear the sound or see the flashes as she crashed to the floor, unconscious.

Nina heard and saw them, though. ‘Oh, crap,’ she gasped, crawling to the stairs and looking down. Vanita was sprawled at the bottom, the gun beside her . . . but the spraying sparks and ominous crackling noise changed Nina’s mind about going down to get it. The short circuit was causing the mineral oil used to cool and insulate the old transformer to boil - to ignition point. It could explode at any moment.

Eddie kicked away Tandon’s corpse and looked up at the platform. Khoil broke through his shock, whirling to check the still-trembling images on the main screens. The drone was closing on its target: 02:05 to impact. He made several rapid hand gestures; no longer controlling the flight of the stealth aircraft, but calling up a menu screen.

Nina realised what he was doing as commands flashed up on the giant video wall. The game was almost over - and the billionaire was trying to fix the result. ‘Eddie!’ she yelled, voice rasping in her bruised throat. ‘He’s locking the controls!’ Even without anyone guiding it, the drone would still carry out its preprogrammed mission.

Eddie sprang up, but knew that by the time he reached the upper platform Khoil would have completed his task. He needed a faster way to stop him. Shoot him - but the guard’s fallen gun was nowhere in sight.

Which left—

He stamped a foot down on Tandon’s ribs and grabbed the length of railing, yanking it out of the dead man’s chest. He spun to smash the metal pipe against the dented framework—

The aluminium strut he hit broke in two. The effect on the rest of the weakened structure was instantaneous; a chain reaction rippled upwards as the weight of the video screens caused the horizontal supports to collapse one after the other. Eddie ran as the larger screens above him fell, smashing on the floor and blowing out with gunfire cracks and sprays of sparks and smoke.

The breakdown reached the top of the dome. The images on the two big screens jolted crazily as the projector rig shook - then tipped sharply as one side broke free, swinging above Khoil with a shrill of tortured metal. He looked up—

The rig tore loose. It dropped the thirty feet to the platform before Khoil could manage more than a startled scream, pounding him to the floor like a piledriver.

Nina winced. ‘Guess you really can be crushed by the weight of information.’

Eddie went to her. ‘Jesus! You okay? Looks like you got bitten by a vampire!’

Nina was confused, until she put a hand to her neck and realised that Vanita had broken the skin with her sharp thumbnails. She wiped off the blood. ‘Yeah, but we need to—’

A loud bang cut her off. Smoke swirled up from the stairs. The crackling sizzle from the transformers below grew louder, more agitated. More of the screens flickered. ‘Not keen on that,’ Eddie muttered. He looked back up at the dome. With the projectors gone, the two largest screens were now blank - no way of knowing how close the drone was to its target. ‘Come on!’

He ran for the platform, Nina following. They reached the upper level to find that Khoil was still alive, groaning weakly under the projector rig. ‘How do we stop the plane?’ Nina demanded.

Despite his pain, Khoil somehow managed a twisted smirk. ‘You can’t,’ he gasped, blood on his teeth. ‘The autopilot is set. In less than two minutes, the Kali Yuga will end . . .’

35

A large patch of dark blood was swelling across the chest of Khoil’s Nehru jacket. Eddie jammed his heel down on it, making the Indian scream. ‘Tell us how to unlock the controls!’

‘No,’ Khoil rasped as Eddie eased the pressure.

‘You’re not going to live much longer no matter what, but I can make every second of it really hurt.’

‘It . . . doesn’t matter. I will be reborn in a new golden age . . .’

‘As a dung beetle, if there’s any bloody justice.’ Realising that Khoil was utterly committed to his plan, he gave him one more jab before turning to Nina. ‘What the fuck do we do now?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said, scanning the active screens in desperation. Maybe Khoil had made a mistake, leaving some way they could divert the drone. But she saw nothing helpful . . .

Her gaze flashed back to one screen in particular. The display showing the live news feed from the presidential palace was still active. The British Prime Minister was shaking hands with his hosts. Only a few more world leaders still to appear, the last being the President of the United States, and everyone would be in place for the drone’s suicide strike—

‘Peter!’ she exclaimed, the sight of the British politician reminding her of one of the members of his entourage. ‘We can call Peter Alderley; he can warn them!’

‘Well, yeah, we could,’ Eddie said, ‘if we had his number. And a phone.’

‘We’ve got a phone. If I can remember how to work it . . .’ She thought back to the smaller infotarium in India, then raised one hand as if holding an invisible handset and brought it to her ear.

Nothing happened. The screens remained unchanged. ‘Damn it!’

Eddie gave her a look of disbelief. ‘This isn’t a good time to play charades!’

‘I saw him do it in Bangalore - like a virtual phone.’ She moved closer to the slender lectern housing the motion sensors and tried again, slowing and exaggerating the move . . .

The screens changed, a keypad overlaid on the images. ‘Yes!’ she cried. ‘What’s the number?’

‘How the hell would I know Alderley’s number?’

‘Not his number - Mac’s number!’ She raised her other hand, forefinger extended; a glowing circle appeared over the keypad as the sensors tracked her fingertip. ‘He’s with Peter, and you know his number, don’t you?’

Eddie quickly recited the digits, Nina tapping at thin air to enter them into the virtual keypad. ‘Just hope he remembered to charge his phone.’

The animated ‘Connecting . . .’ icon appeared, but nothing seemed to be happening. Nina and Eddie exchanged worried looks - then a hollow hiss came from speakers overhead. Another tense moment, and the ringing tone echoed round the dome. Twice, three times . . .

‘If the world ends because we got sent to voicemail, I’m gonna be very unhappy,’ Nina muttered. ‘Come on, Mac, pick up—’

A click, then a familiar Scottish voice, slight puzzlement evident at being called from an unfamiliar number. ‘Hello?’

‘Mac!’ Nina cried. ‘Thank God! It’s us, Nina and Eddie!’

The background noise suggested that he was in a large room, a hum of conversation audible. ‘What’s going on? I thought you were in Greenland?’

‘We are,’ said Eddie, ‘but the shit’s about to hit the fan in Delhi. Khoil’s got a stealth drone full of explosives about to do a kamikaze run on the G20 photocall right now - you’ve got to get them out of there!’

Silence for a second. Then an urgent shout of: ‘Peter!’

‘What is it?’ called Alderley.

‘We have a situation. Over here, now! Kit, you too.’

‘Where are you?’ Eddie asked.

‘At the Rashtrapati Bhavan - we’ve been dealing with the head of the Indian security service.’

‘Useful.’

‘Not really - he doesn’t believe the Khoils could be a threat.’ A new voice: Kit. ‘What’s happening?’

Mac quickly summarised the situation for his companions. ‘Chase,’ said Alderley, ‘is this intel good?’

‘Straight from the arsehole’s mouth,’ Eddie told him, with a quick look down at Khoil. ‘I don’t know how long until it hits ground zero, but it’s less than ninety seconds. You’ve got to evacuate everyone - or at least get them under cover.’

‘Eddie!’ said Nina urgently, indicating the news feed. On the screen, President Cole was emerging from the palace, striding along the red carpet to meet the Indian leaders. Now that all the G20 leaders had arrived, they would gather for their group photo . . . and become the highest-value target on the planet.

‘Shit!’ said Eddie. ‘Mac, get them out of there! Now!’

‘We’re on it,’ said Mac. A muted thump came from the speakers as he disconnected.

‘It’s too late,’ Khoil said from the floor. ‘You can’t stop it.’

All Nina and Eddie could do was watch the news feed as the world leaders began to congregate.

Mac and Alderley hurried across the crowded room, Kit following as quickly as he could on his crutch. The majority of the guests were high-ranking Indian politicians and civil servants, the remainder diplomats and officials from the other countries attending the summit.

There was only one person the trio were interested in, however. They spotted the portly, grey-bearded man near the doors leading to the expansive courtyard where the leaders had assembled. ‘Mr Verma!’ Alderley called, barging past a cluster of Russian delegates to reach him.

Arivali Verma, the head of India’s Intelligence Bureau, looked round in annoyance from his discussion with his Chinese opposite number. ‘Mr . . . Alderley, yes?’ He recognised the taller, older man with him. ‘Colonel McCrimmon? What is it?’

‘There’s about to be a terrorist attack,’ Alderley said urgently. ‘We have to get the delegates into cover.’

‘What?’ Verma looked to one of his subordinates standing nearby. The man’s bemused expression told him that he had heard nothing of the sort through his earpiece. ‘Where did you hear this?’

‘Does it matter?’ Mac snapped. ‘Just evacuate the courtyard!’

‘What kind of attack? I need more information! The entire world is watching - if I call an alert and nothing happens, we will look like fools!’

‘Better that than doing nothing until a plane crashes into them!’ said Kit, catching up.

Verma huffed. ‘If an unauthorised plane came within fifty kilometres, I would be told immediately.’

‘Not if it were a stealth plane,’ said Mac.

‘A stealth plane?’ Verma echoed in disbelief. ‘This is absurd!’

‘We don’t have time for this!’ Kit growled. He tried to push past Verma to the door, but his assistant moved to block him—

Mac suddenly planted both palms squarely on Verma’s chest and shoved him backwards. Arms flailing, he crashed against his subordinate. Both men fell to the floor in an ungainly heap.

Everyone nearby was shocked - then several of the Indian contingent rushed at Mac . . . including the men guarding the courtyard doors. The Scot winked at Kit, the slight flick of his eyes towards the exit giving the younger man a clear instruction. Alderley, hemmed in by the charge, realised what he was doing and swung a punch at one of the men trying to grab Mac before he too was swarmed.

Leaving the doorway clear.

Kit hopped over the outraged, flapping Verma and into the courtyard. Ignoring the resurgent pain in his injured leg, he hurried forward, pulling out his ID and holding it above his head. ‘Interpol!’ he cried. ‘Everyone inside - there’s a terrorist—’

A pair of black-suited US Secret Service agents dived at him, slamming him to the ground. The world leaders looked round in surprise at the commotion, some reacting with alarm at the last word.

The agents grappled with Kit, forcing him on to his chest and pulling his arms up painfully behind his back. He struggled, but couldn’t break free: the only thing that could escape was his voice. ‘They’re going to crash a plane!’ he cried. ‘A suicide flight - 9/11! Get out of here! Get out!’

Those two numbers got everyone’s attention. One agent released Kit’s arm, putting a hand to his earpiece to listen to an incoming transmission over the hubbub - then jumped up and pulled Kit to his feet. The other American agents mobilised as one to surround Cole and clear a path for him to get indoors. To the Secret Service, any hint of a threat to the life of the President was treated as confirmed until proved otherwise; the potential consequences of under-reacting were infinitely worse than the opposite.

The security details of the other leaders took their cue from the Americans. The courtyard had several exits, all of which led inside the palace; the group split up to run for them.

The two agents bustled Kit back towards the door. Over the shouts and screams, he heard another noise - a high-pitched buzz, the rasp of an aircraft propeller.

Getting louder . . .

Nina and Eddie, watching the news feed, saw the camera pan sharply to catch Kit being tackled by a pair of agents. His mouth moved as he shouted, but the screen had no sound.

The picture jolted as the press corps panicked, someone bumping the camera. Its operator valiantly tried to cover the action, aiming it at the world leaders, but by now they were scattering in all directions. ‘Oh, shit,’ Nina whispered.

‘Any second,’ Khoil croaked. ‘Any second now . . .’

The image tipped downwards as the cameraman abandoned his post and fled, only flagstones and a section of red carpet visible. Running shadows flickered across the screen.

A flash—

The picture jolted, then broke up into stuttering pixellated squares for a moment before cutting out entirely. The screen went black.

Eddie looked frantically at the remaining screens in the hope that one would reveal more information, but nothing was forthcoming. ‘What happened?’ Nina asked. ‘Oh, God, what happened?’

Khoil managed a bubbling, coughing laugh. ‘The Kali Yuga has ended, Dr Wilde. That is what has happened. The global collapse is inevitable . . . Lord Shiva will destroy the old age to begin a new one.’

‘We can still tell everyone what you’ve done,’ Nina told him, helplessness turning to anger. ‘There won’t be any war if they know you were behind it - no matter what you’ve rigged Qexia to say.’

‘This is no longer a time for reason,’ the billionaire said. ‘Emotion will rule - anger, fear, vengeance.’ His gaze moved to a screen above her. ‘Look. There it is . . . the image that will change the world.’

The live news feed was back, displaying a view from a different camera - this one in the grounds of the Rashtrapati Bhavan, shaking as its operator was jostled by people around him. The enormous palace, lit by banks of floodlights, stood out sharply against the black sky - as did a rising column of smoke and dust, drifting across to obscure the huge dome that was the building’s centrepiece.

‘You see?’ rasped Khoil, with rising triumph. ‘They are dead. Qexia is already blaming Pakistan. I . . . I have won!’

‘The only thing you’ve won is a kick in the bollocks,’ Eddie snarled, drawing back one foot. Khoil flinched, but Nina grabbed her husband’s arm before he could deliver the strike.

She pointed up at the screen. ‘Eddie, look!’

The picture had changed again, to another hand-held camera. The image jerked as the cameraman ran down a corridor, glimpses of ornately decorated walls briefly visible through a pall of swirling smoke. The broadcast was coming from somewhere inside the palace . . . but how far from ground zero? People staggered past, half-seen ghosts with clothing and faces caked in dust.

Nina and Eddie stared up at the screen, barely daring to breathe. The camera entered a large room. A ragged hole in the far wall was briefly visible before the cameraman turned his attention to the people around him. Those nearest the broken wall were covered in rubble, clearly dead. Others were still moving, dark blotches of blood standing out through the pale dust.

But despite the carnage, the cameraman was following his journalistic instincts. The image steadied, fixing on individual groups of people. Searching for the surviving world leaders.

If there were any.

Black suits, turned grey by the covering of smashed stone and plaster. Secret Service agents. Clustered around someone. The camera shakily zoomed in.

An agent, blood on his neck and shoulder, slumped back - to reveal the dirtied face of President Leo Cole. But he was still, a pale statue. Nina gripped Eddie’s hand, unable to speak for fear. Was he alive or dead? She couldn’t tell . . .

He moved, mouth widening in a silent cough. Opening his eyes, he wiped his face and spoke to one of the agents.

‘Yes!’ Nina exclaimed, squeezing Eddie’s hand tightly. ‘Never thought I’d be so happy to see a politician talking!’

The image moved away from Cole, reacting to something offscreen. It hunted through the drifting smoke before settling on another leader: the Indian president, leaning against a wall as two men hurried to help him. ‘The bigwigs got out okay, then - some of ’em, anyway.’ Eddie watched the screen as the camera searched for more survivors. ‘What about Mac, though? And Kit?’

‘And Peter,’ Nina reminded him, getting a non-committal grunt in reply. The cameraman continued through the room, people rushing past to help the injured. More powerful faces appeared, the Indian prime minister and Russian president being guided towards clearer air. Behind them—

‘Mac!’ Eddie cried, catching a glimpse of the Scot limping towards an exit. His suit was torn, blood smeared over one arm, but he didn’t appear badly wounded. Following him was Kit, supported by a Secret Service agent. An overweight, bearded Indian man jostled through the crowd to speak to him, then the cameraman moved on.

Nina turned to Khoil, whose expression was slowly collapsing into dismay. ‘They survived. We managed to warn them in time. I guess Qexia couldn’t predict everything. So the question is: what now?’

‘We still need to shut down that jammer,’ said Eddie. ‘Soon as we do, Probst can send an SOS.’

‘Or we could do it here.’ Nina moved back to the sensor unit, raising her hand to her ear to make another virtual phone call. The keypad reappeared on the screens. ‘We’ll just call—’

An earsplitting bang came from below, a shower of sparks spitting up from the stairwell with a fierce electrical crackle. Smoke spewed into the dome as all the remaining screens flickered, then went dark.

‘What the hell was that?’ Eddie yelled.

‘A transformer’s blown!’ As a child, Nina had once been evacuated from school when a faulty transformer on a neighbouring building exploded, starting a fire and knocking out the power for three blocks. The same was happening here, only on a much larger scale - and flames rose higher as she watched. ‘We’ve got to get out of here.’

‘How? That’s the only exit!’

She looked across to where she had slammed Vanita into the outer wall. ‘Not any more. Come on!’ She hurried over to Khoil.

‘What’re you doing?’ Eddie demanded.

‘He’s got to stand trial—’

He pointed at the blood pooling round the billionaire’s broken body. ‘He’ll be dead in five minutes without a medic, and nobody’s going to run through a fire to help this little turd. Especially not me! Besides, he believes in reincarnation, right? He can find out if he was right.’

‘But we can’t just leave him,’ Nina protested.

Khoil’s breathing became more laboured. ‘You . . . you have condemned the world to remain in the Kali Yuga,’ he spat. ‘Shiva will reward me in the next life. He will punish you for eternity!’

Another loud detonation from below shook the dome, a screen dropping from the support frame and smashing on the floor. The flames in the stairwell rose higher. ‘If we don’t get out of here, we’ll die with him!’ Eddie shouted. He grabbed her arm, pulling her to the steps.

She looked back at Khoil, seeing that his blank, expressionless android mask had finally been completely stripped away, leaving nothing but anger and hate. Then he was gone as they descended to the walkway, then hurried to floor level. They started for the hole in the dome wall—

‘Chase . . .’ said a low, straining voice. Eddie whirled. Zec. The mercenary was still alive - just. He had broken his neck in the fall, his head twisted round alarmingly, but the break was at a vertebra low enough for him to keep breathing. His body was limp, however, still splayed as he had landed. Paralysed.

Eddie hesitated, then went to him. ‘What’re you doing?’ said Nina, reluctantly stopping halfway to the hole in the dome. ‘If we don’t have time to get Khoil out, we don’t have time for him either!’

She was right, he knew, but the situation was different. Zec had helped them - saved them. Abandoning him felt wrong . . . even though attempting to get him out of the dome would probably result in them all being killed.

Zec also knew the score. ‘No, leave me,’ he whispered, before the Englishman could pick him up. ‘Just tell my family . . . that I did the right thing. Tell my son he can be . . . proud of me.’

‘I will,’ Eddie promised.

‘Thank you.’ A feeble smile. ‘I hope . . . Hugo will not be disappointed when I see him. Now, go. Go!’

Eddie backed away, giving him a nod of silent thanks before turning to follow Nina. She was already at the exposed section of dome, kicking at the fibreglass panels. He joined her, slamming his sole against one of the geodesic struts. Metal bent, then snapped under a second below. The panels shattered, freezing wind gusting round them.

The resulting hole was now large enough to fit through. Nina went first, finding herself on a narrow ledge, looking down at the composite building’s roof close to thirty feet below. ‘Whoa! It’s higher than I thought.’

There was no sign of a ladder. ‘We’ll have to jump,’ said Eddie.

‘Are you kidding? We’ll break our legs!’

Another explosive crackle of electrical fury came from behind them. ‘Well, we could just stand here and watch the aurora, but we won’t have long to appreciate it.’ He ran to one corner. ‘Here!’ he said, pointing down. Though the heat from inside the radar station had melted most of the snow off the sloping roof, the elements had still maintained a hold on some areas, a steep drift having built up against the northern wall.

‘It’s not very deep.’

‘Better than nothing!’ He clambered over the rail, hung from it . . . then dropped. There was a flat whumph as he hit the piled snow, followed by a string of expletives.

‘Are you okay?’ Nina called as he crawled from the drift.

‘You were right - it’s not very deep. Come on, jump down.’

She reluctantly dangled from the railing, muttering darkly before releasing her hold. The drift exploded round her as she landed, the mound of snow doing little to cushion her landing. ‘God damn it!’ she gasped, spitting out ice.

Eddie helped her up. ‘It’s going!’ He indicated the little windows above them. Actinic flashes from the sparking, overloading transformers stabbed through the orange flicker of flames. ‘Come on!’

Nina couldn’t see any skylights or other ways back into the building, only the jutting tops of the station’s eight blocky support legs. ‘Where?’

‘Behind that!’ He pointed at the nearest leg. ‘Get down and cover your ears!’

They rounded the structure, finding another snowdrift on its exposed side. Eddie practically threw Nina into it, diving after her—

The remaining transformers, hulking Cold War relics filled with hundreds of gallons of mineral oil coolant, exploded.

The floor of the dome erupted with liquid fire, the blast from below ripping the geodesic structure apart. Zec was killed instantly; Khoil, higher up, screamed and thrashed as the flames consumed him in his own personal funeral pyre. The walls of the central core collapsed on to the roof and smashed through it into the floors below, the burning remains of the dome tumbling down on top of the devastation.

Shielded by the support leg, Eddie and Nina were still pounded by the force of the explosion as the colossal building shook. Flaming fibreglass fragments hailed down around them. Eddie hurriedly brushed cinders from his scalp and crawled to peer round the leg, seeing the communication masts topple and crash to the ground like great steel trees. ‘I think that’s the jammer sorted out, then.’

‘And everything else,’ Nina added. ‘This whole building’s going to burn - we’ve got to . . .’ She tailed off.

‘What?’ Eddie demanded, suspecting that he wouldn’t like the answer.

‘The vault,’ she gasped. ‘We left the vault open - if the building burns down, the debris’ll fall down the elevator shaft and destroy all the treasures!’

‘So let me guess - you want us to go down there and save everything? We’ll have a sod of a job carrying that statue back to the lift!’

‘We don’t have to take anything out, just make sure they’re protected. Eddie, we have to,’ she went on, pleading. ‘We can’t let them be destroyed, not now. You saw how thick that door was - all we have to do is close it. Even if the building collapses, someone can still recover everything later.’

‘Yeah, and they might recover what’s left of us if we’re down there when it happens!’ But he saw her point. The war the Khoils had hoped for might have been averted, but if their private collection of stolen cultural treasures was destroyed, they would still get one last laugh from beyond the grave. ‘Okay, okay. But we’ll have to be quick. I don’t know how long this place’ll hold together.’

Nina stood. ‘First thing we need to do is get off this roof.’ She gingerly made her way to the edge and looked across the aurora-lit plain. Far below, several people were running for one of the smaller structures at the base’s periphery. ‘Where are they going?’

‘Emergency shelter, probably,’ said Eddie, more interested in the building on which they were standing. At one end of the roof, metal stairs led downwards: access so that the flat expanse could be checked for weather damage. ‘C’mon.’

Skirting pieces of burning debris, they ran for the stairs and descended to a short catwalk. At its end was a door; Eddie kicked it open. A narrow stairwell led down through the composite building. The air was already hazy with smoke.

They hurried down the stairs, Eddie wincing at the pain from Tandon’s beating. At the bottom, he held Nina back, feeling the door for heat on the other side, then cautiously opening it a fraction in case anyone was still in the building. But the corridor was empty. The way clear, they headed for the elevators.

Both of the cage-like cars waited at the top of the shaft. Eddie regarded them dubiously. ‘Bad idea, using a lift when there’s a fire . . . but I’m not climbing down that bloody ladder again.’ They entered one of the elevators, which began its rumbling descent into the glacier.

‘Now that the jammer’s down, how long before help gets here, do you think?’ Nina asked.

‘Couple of hours, probably.’

‘I hope Walther can hold out that long.’

‘I hope we can hold out that long. The Khoils are dead, but some of their staff’re still around, and they seemed pretty big on loyalty. I don’t want to have got through all this and then get shot by their pastry chef. When we—’

They both looked up sharply at a noise from above, a deep metallic groan punctuated by ominous thumps and bangs. The elevator shook, the vertical tracks rattling as the building’s weight shifted on its support legs.

‘So,’ said Eddie, hovering a hand over the emergency stop button, ‘are some bits of old junk really that important to the world?’ Nina glared at him. ‘Yeah, thought so.’ He stepped back - then froze as he spotted something in the adjacent shaft. ‘Shit!’

The cables of the other elevator were moving. They looked up again - and saw that the second car was descending after them. It was moving at the same speed as theirs, meaning it would arrive at the bottom some thirty seconds later. Someone leaned over the guardrail.

Vanita.

Holding a gun—

Nina and Eddie dived in different directions as she opened fire with an MP5K. They were far enough below her to be beyond the range at which the compact weapon could be aimed effectively - but she was unconcerned about accuracy, spraying the lower elevator with bullets. Rounds clanged off the metal floor like hailstones, stray shots striking the girders between the two elevator tracks.

‘Jesus!’ Nina cried, wedging herself tightly into a corner in the hope that the car’s frame would give her some protection. ‘I thought she was dead!’

‘No such luck,’ Eddie growled, doing the same on the other side. He winced as a shot ricocheted off the guardrail above him. ‘But she’ll be out of ammo any second—’

The firing stopped. Nina cautiously raised her head. ‘Yes!’

‘Unless she’s got another mag . . .’

The gunfire resumed.

‘Why do you always have to tempt fate?’ Nina shrieked, cringing back into what little cover she had as more bullets ripped into the elevator.

‘You were the one fighting her! You should’ve hit her harder!’ Eddie fired back.

The onslaught stopped. Eddie had been counting the shots; Vanita had only used about two-thirds of the gun’s thirty-round magazine. That suggested she didn’t have any more mags - but she still had more than enough ammo remaining to kill them.

They were almost at the bottom of the shaft. ‘She’ll be right behind us,’ he warned, ‘so get ready to run.’

The elevator stopped. Eddie rolled through the gate as it opened. Nina sprinted after him, a three-round burst of bullets riddling the floor just behind her.

The vault door gaped at the other end of the corridor just as they had left it, the stolen treasures visible beyond. Eddie went to the alcove containing the security station and pressed himself against the wall, planning to ambush Vanita when she arrived, but Nina waved furiously at him from the vault entrance. ‘No, get inside!’ she shouted. ‘I’ll close the door!’

‘And she’ll just open it again!’

‘At least it’ll slow her down! Come on!’

Eddie hesitated, then ran for the vault. Another rumbling boom from high above roiled down the shaft as the second elevator reached the bottom.

The gate opened. Vanita stepped out, the gun raised. The left side of her face was burned, hair singed away where flames from the exploding transformer had caught her as she fled. The other half was twisted into a snarl. She shrieked in Hindi as she fired, a blood-spitting outburst of rage and vengeance.

Eddie dived through the open door as the shots seared over him. One of the terracotta warriors was hit, a hole exploding in its chest. ‘Shut the door!’ he yelled, scrambling out of Vanita’s line of fire.

Nina hit the button on the inner control panel. With a thrum of powerful motors, the massive door began to close.

Vanita broke into a run. ‘You can’t hide! Shiva will find you! I will find you!’ She fired again, another burst striking the thick metal door as it swung shut. Reaching the control panel, she raised her hand to push the Open button—

A much louder noise from the surface, the sharp boom of an explosion - followed by crashes as debris plunged down the elevator shaft, clanging off the girders as it fell. Vanita whirled, seeing an orange light through the open gates, rapidly getting brighter—

Burning wreckage smashed into the elevator cars and burst apart on impact, a wave of fire and shrapnel surging down the confines of the concrete corridor. It hit Vanita, slamming her violently against the door as shards of wood and metal stabbed into her like flaming arrows.

Even inside the vault, the pounding sounded like an animal clawing at the metal. Nina jumped in shock, then slapped her hand firmly back on the Close button. But the door showed no signs of moving. Eddie stood and went to her. ‘I don’t think she’s coming in.’

‘Was that something falling down the shaft?’

‘Half the radar station, by the sound of it—’ They both flinched as the lights went out. Darkness for a moment, then from the depths of the bunker came a rattle of machinery. The lights flickered, then came back on. ‘Emergency generator,’ he said. ‘Must cut in automatically if the main power goes off.’

‘You mean we’re stuck down here?’ said Nina in alarm.

‘For the moment. I wouldn’t open that door for a while, anyway - there might be a fire outside. But we’ve got power, we’ll have air - if this place was built as a bunker, it’ll have scrubbers like on a submarine - and I saw supplies in the living quarters. The Khoils must have set things up so they could stay down here if they needed. We’ve just got to wait for someone to come and dig us out.’

She still wasn’t happy. ‘That could take ages.’

‘So? Is there something else you were planning on doing?’

Her gaze went to the collection of antiquities. ‘You know, I could actually use the time to check the treasures. Find out if any of them have been damaged, try to catalogue everything . . .’

She started towards them, but Eddie put his hands round her waist and pulled her back. ‘For Christ’s sake, it’s always bloody work, work, work with you!’

‘Well, what do you think we should do with the time?’

He pointed at the door leading to the sleeping quarters, a smile spreading across his bruised face. ‘Seeing as we’ve finally got some time to ourselves, I’ve got a few ideas.’

Nina grinned. ‘Just so long as they don’t involve props.’

Epilogue

New York City

Nina stood before her office windows, staring out across Manhattan. Despite the December cold, it was a clear day, sunlight glinting dazzlingly off the skyscrapers. But her mood was anything but bright.

Eddie stood beside her. ‘If you’re not feeling up to it . . .’ he said quietly.

‘No, I’ll be okay,’ she insisted. ‘I have to see him. I need to see him.’ More loudly, to the open intercom: ‘Bring him through, please, Lola.’

Eddie squeezed her hand in reassurance, then stepped back at a tap on the door. Nina took a breath. ‘Come in.’

Desmond Sharpe entered.

Nina felt a resurgence of the feelings that had stricken her at Rowan’s death. Desmond was shorter and stockier, hair grey rather than black, but his eyes were just like his son’s. She tried to greet him, but the words froze in her mouth.

He saw her distress, and spoke first. ‘Hello, Nina,’ he said softly.

‘Hello . . . Desmond.’ Nina hesitated before using his first name, almost falling back on a formal ‘Mr Sharpe’. But she had been on familiar terms with him while dating Rowan, and afterwards.

She introduced him to her husband, who shook his hand. ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ Eddie said simply. Desmond thanked him. ‘I’ll be outside, give you some privacy.’

He left the room. Nina tried to assemble her thoughts before speaking, but found herself only able to begin with a superficial pleasantry. ‘Thank you for coming. Although you didn’t have to come all the way from Bridgeport. I wanted to see you at home. And - and I’m so sorry that I wasn’t able to be at Rowan’s funeral. I should have been. I’m sorry.’ Her eyes turned down to the carpet between them.

‘Nina, it’s okay,’ Desmond replied, stepping to her. ‘I know you’ve been . . . busy. I still keep up with the news.’

She lifted her head, seeing his small, sad smile. ‘I’m still sorry. I should have seen you, or at least called you, much sooner. I didn’t because . . .’ He gaze dropped again, as did her voice. ‘Because I was afraid to.’

‘Why?’

‘I thought you’d blame me.’

‘Oh, Nina.’ He put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Why on earth would I blame you? You tried to help him; you . . .’ His voice became choked, hoarse. ‘You were there with him. At the end. And, do you know, of all the people he could have been with, I think Rowan would have been happy that it was you.’

Nina looked back up at Desmond, hot lines of tears trickling down her cheeks. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

Desmond left Nina’s office several minutes later. Eddie was waiting outside; the older man paused to speak to him. ‘Thank you.’ ‘For what?’ Eddie asked.

‘For dealing with the people who killed my son. I didn’t say this to Nina, and I hope you won’t tell her I said it, but you gave them what they deserved. I call that justice. The world needs more people like you.’

Eddie wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, settling for a non-committal nod as he shook his hand again. He re-entered the office as Lola escorted Desmond out, finding Nina back at the window. ‘You okay?’ he asked, moving behind her and putting his arms round her waist.

‘Yeah,’ she sighed. ‘Desmond and I talked about Rowan, how much we’re both going to miss him. But it’s going to be so much harder for him.’ She leaned against him, wiping her eyes. ‘I heard you talking to him - what did he say?’

‘Just . . . saying thanks,’ he said, honouring Desmond’s request to keep his bitter outburst private. ‘Sure you’re all right?’

‘I will be. Thanks.’ She put her hands on his. They stood in silence, looking out across New York together.

The moment was broken by the trill of the intercom. ‘Nina?’ said Lola. ‘Mac and Mr Jindal are here.’

Nina extricated herself from Eddie’s arms, surprised. ‘I didn’t know they were in town.’

‘Mac was with Alderley down in Washington for some intelligence debrief - he told me he’d see us before he flew back home. No idea Kit was here, though.’

The familiar Scottish and Indian voices reached them before the visitors themselves: ‘. . . with both of them on the team, they would easily be able to stand up to India,’ said Mac.

‘But how can you know? Scotland have never played in a Test match,’ Kit replied. He tapped on the open door, entering as Nina waved them in. ‘Hello! Good to see you both again.’

‘And you,’ said Nina. She noticed he was limping. ‘How’s the leg?’

‘Better, thank you. I can walk without a crutch now, which is a great relief! It still hurts, but it will heal completely soon.’

‘Already back at work at Interpol, are you?’ Eddie asked him as he shook hands with his old friend and mentor.

‘Yes - which is why I am here. But I will tell you in a minute. After Mac admits that I am right about Sachin Tendulkar being the greatest cricketer of all time.’ He grinned at the Scot.

Eddie shook his head. ‘Not more bloody cricket.’

‘You should learn from this lad, Eddie,’ said Mac. ‘He’s very sharp and capable. And polite and respectful, too. Even if his grasp of the facts about sport is somewhat tenuous.’ Now it was Kit’s turn to shake his head.

‘So what brings you here, Kit?’ asked Nina.

‘Well, the first thing is that I wanted to tell you I have been promoted! I am now the Chief Investigator of the Cultural Property Crime Unit.’

Eddie patted him on the back. ‘Nice one, mate. Congratulations!’

‘Well deserved, I think,’ Nina added.

Kit smiled. ‘Thank you. But the other thing is that I will be working with you again in the future. I have been appointed Interpol’s official liaison with the IHA in matters of cultural property crime. I just came from a meeting with the UN’s Mr Penrose - he will give you all the details, but I wanted to tell you in person. And I also wanted to bring you our first new joint case.’

He took a box from the briefcase he was carrying and opened it - to reveal the purple statuette Nina had seen amongst the Khoil’s collection of stolen treasures. ‘Interpol has not been able to identify its true owner, and so far we have found nothing in the Khoils’ records about it either. It’s possible Fernandez’s gang killed its owner, so its theft was never reported.’

‘Or,’ Eddie suggested, ‘maybe it wasn’t reported because whoever they nicked it from didn’t want anyone to know they had it in the first place.’

‘Why would anyone want to keep it a secret?’ asked Nina. ‘Nobody knows anything about it.’

‘The Khoils must have known, otherwise why would they have stolen it?’ said Kit. He looked across the room to the statuette’s not-quite-twin in the display case. ‘But now that you have two of them to examine, perhaps you will know too. I persuaded Interpol that you and the IHA were the best hope of identifying it.’ He handed the box to Nina and closed his briefcase.

‘Uh, thanks,’ she said, slightly taken aback by the unexpected ‘gift’.

‘Are you staying in New York?’ Eddie asked. ‘I’m afraid I can’t,’ Kit told him. ‘I have to fly back to Lyon right away - my new job somehow has a large pile of paperwork waiting for me already!’

‘I know how that feels,’ said Nina, putting the box on her desk. ‘Well, congratulations on the promotion, Kit. Hope we see you again soon. Okay, not too soon, as that’d mean some archaeological treasure’s been stolen . . . but you know what I mean.’

‘I think I do,’ he said with a grin. ‘Goodbye, my friends.’ He shook everyone’s hand, then departed.

‘What about you, Mac?’ said Nina. ‘Do you have to rush off too?’

Mac gestured towards 44th Street beyond the window. ‘Only as far as the Delacourt Hotel.’ He gave Eddie a wry look. ‘I thought after the trouble last time I was there, I should give them the custom as compensation. But after that, I’d rather hoped you’d both join me for dinner tonight.’

‘We’d love to,’ said Nina.

‘I’m always up for some good nosh,’ Eddie added.

‘Superb. In that case, I’d better go and check in. If there’s anywhere you particularly recommend, give me a call. After all,’ a smile, ‘I know you have my number. Since that’s how you saved the world!’

‘Again,’ said Nina. ‘We really should start billing for services rendered.’

Mac laughed, then his smile became even warmer as he shook Eddie’s hand. ‘You know, I thought when I first met you - God, what is it, almost sixteen years ago now? - that you had far more potential than met the eye. People like Stikes thought you were just a troublemaker, but sometimes we need somebody who’ll stir things up. I’m proud, I’m honoured, that you proved me right. Well done, Eddie. Damn good work.’

Eddie stood straighter, beaming. ‘Thanks, Mac. That means a lot.’

Mac released him, then kissed Nina’s cheek. ‘And you’ve done a fantastic job of civilising him. I wouldn’t have thought it possible—’

‘Oi!’ Eddie protested.

‘—but achieving the impossible seems to be one of your talents. Keep it up.’ He went to the door. ‘I’ll see you both later.’

Nina waved as he departed, then turned to her husband, smirking. ‘Aw, look at you. You’re so happy and proud. It’s sweet. It’s like you just got praise from your dad.’

She had meant it in a humorous way, the tactlessness only striking her after the words left her mouth. But rather than responding with irritation as he had before, Eddie appeared contemplative. ‘What is it?’ she asked.

‘You just made me think about Shankarpa and Girilal - about them getting to talk to each other one last time. And about Zec, wanting his son to know he’d done the right thing.’ He picked up the phone. Nina saw that the first two digits he dialled were 44 - the international code for the United Kingdom. ‘Hi, Elizabeth,’ he said when he got an answer. ‘It’s me. Yeah, yeah, I’m fine; I’ll tell you all about it later. Just a quick call - can you give me Dad’s phone number?’

The surprised response from the other end of the line was loud enough even for Nina to hear. Eddie listened with rising annoyance to his sister’s gloating at his change of heart. ‘No - no, I’m not saying I’m gonna call him,’ he interrupted. ‘Just that I wanted his number. In case I need it. Which I don’t right now, okay? So, you got the number?’ He took a pen from Nina’s desk and wrote it down. ‘Okay, thanks. Talk to you again soon. Give my love to Holly and Nan, will you? Bye.’

‘So are you going to call him?’ Nina asked with a sly smile.

‘Don’t you bloody start.’ He pocketed the paper.

‘What about dinner, then? Italian? French? Thai?’

He grinned. ‘I could murder an Indian.’

Kit walked through the gates of United Nations Plaza on to First Avenue’s busy sidewalk. He took out his phone, glanced round to make sure nobody was paying him any particular attention, then entered a number and made a call.

A brusque, impatient response. ‘Yes.’

‘Sir, it’s Jindal,’ he said. ‘I’ve just left the United Nations. Pushing to be assigned to the case paid off - the IHA now has the two statues. As the new liaison between Interpol and the IHA, I will be in a position to monitor their investigation.’

He had hoped to receive some praise, but was unsurprised when none was forthcoming. ‘You think Dr Wilde will be able to find the third?’

‘If anyone can, she can. I’m sure of it.’

‘I hope so, Jindal.’ The implication of threat was understated, but clear. ‘Is your cover still secure?’

‘Yes, sir. Nobody at Interpol or the IHA suspects that I’m working for the Group. If anything, the events in Delhi have given me more freedom to operate.’

‘Good. Keep us informed of Dr Wilde’s progress. As soon as she locates the third statue . . . the plan can begin.’

The call ended. Kit double-checked that he had not been overheard, then disappeared into the crowd.