The Swords of Babylon

CHAPTER FIFTY THREE

Drake and his team had raced hard and fast back to the pit of Babylon. By the time they exited a military Humvee and stepped out into the cool desert night beside one of Razin’s old tents, they had less than an hour before Hayden’s agreed time came around.

But what the hell were they supposed to do?

The team had solved a part of the puzzle after rescuing the Great Sword from Zoya’s treasure hoard. Patterson had used his experience and Akerman’s cliff notes to decipher the last short inscription.

Take the Great Sword to the Pit.

“Is that it?” Mai had asked.

Even Patterson appeared disconsolate. “Crap. Yes, that’s all it says.”

“No instruction manual?”

Drake shook his head. “Not such a great sword after all.”

“The inscription is enough,” Patterson had speculated. “Could that be all we need to know?”

“It’s gonna have to be,” Drake had growled. “Tell us more about this bloody pit.”

Patterson spread his arms. “I don’t know any more. Not much is known about the pit of Babylon. It may also be an earth energy vortex. It was described as a deep, dark hole of sludge and dirt and just… nothingness. You understand? The remains of the original, most sinful city of all time were buried there and then dug up. What was left was an absence of everything. You surely know that some places which experience great trauma or tragedy absorb that disturbance and suffering. They become dark forever.”

“You’re saying the pit is haunted?” Drake cut through the bull and laid it on the line in true Yorkshire style.

“No. I’m saying that, like people, a terrible ordeal can damage a place, tainting it for all time. Need I quote factual references?”

“For God’s sake no,” Drake had finally moaned.

Now, as the world lay in ignorance of a possible doomsday event, Drake and Mai led Patterson and Yorgi past the gently billowing tents toward the edge of the pit of Babylon. Since Razin and his men had departed nothing had changed. Tools and crates littered the area. The winch stood idle, its man-size bucket swaying slightly. All four of them turned on their flaslights to survey the area.

Drake hefted the sword. “I don’t see—”

The mammoth came out of nowhere; hairy, enormous, growling like an earthquake and bent on murder. Drake felt it hit his midriff, almost breaking him in half, his relaxed state actually saving his life as he folded easily instead of resisting.

Mai’s piercing cry almost stopped his heart. “Zanko!”

“You killed her!” It was the bellow of a man turned insane.

Drake was carried for twenty feet and then hurled into the pit of Babylon, the sword clattering away into the darkness. As he fell helplessly, his eyes stared up — and saw Zanko jump right in after him

Hayden called the commander at Diamond Head as she and Kinimaka were driven at high speed toward the extinct volcano. Her words stunned him speechless.

“I want a full scale assault! Now!”

His lack of response infuriated her. “Did you hear me?”

“Y… yes. A full scale assault? Are you sure? I will have to confirm that through my captain.”

“I am your fucking captain! Do it!” She signed off, knowing he would waste another precious five minutes seeking confirmation of the order she had given him.

Kinimaka squeezed her arm. “We’ll make it.”

Hayden shook her head. “We have less than an hour to stick to our simultaneous attack. If the others all strike and we’re late, it could be disastrous.”

“Call Karin. Put the time back.”

“I did. Dahl’s already inside his tomb. Drake’s not answering. Alicia’s pinned down.” She met his eyes. “As a team we’re disjointed, uninformed, and all over the place. We’re losing this one.”

Kinimaka pointed ahead. “We’re nearly there. Hang loose.” He gave her the ghost of a smile.

But Hayden shook her head. “Don’t you get it? This is the big one. Not only for whichever whacko is in there playing king of the hill, Mano. It’s also the last move of the gods. Their last chance. And it must become their Ragnarok, not ours.”

Diamond Head’s crater emerged up ahead, and they were driven up the long winding road to its entrance, through the short tunnel and out into a sunlit bowl. A military force gathered to their right, its point men thankfully already filing into the mountain. Hayden jumped out and raced up to the man in charge. Almost as an afterthought, Kinimaka grabbed the two Swords of Babylon and followed.

“Thanks for clearing the way through so quickly. My partner and I,” she indicated Kinimaka, “need to get down there. Fast.”

“We just started the charge, little lady,” the rugged faced officer told her stiffly. “You jus’ jump on in wherever you feel comfortable.”

Hayden checked her Glock and extra ammo as Kinimaka pushed his way to the front of the assault team. More than one soldier bounced off him, almost sent sprawling, but the Hawaiian’s face brooked no argument. They stepped into the tunnel, instantly finding themselves under fire. A dozen soldiers crept ahead of them, moving in formation, bombarding a merc defense and pinning it down.

Hayden saw a sliver of an opportunity. “Go!” She slapped Kinimaka’s broad shoulder, sending him off like a sprinter out of the traps. Shooting hard, they cleared the merc defense in seconds and raced down the passage beyond. A newly formed long slope brought them to the chamber where Cook’s ‘Gates of Hell’ resided.

Kinimaka gulped air. “Shit.”

“Just go.” Hayden dashed past him, knowing he would follow her into any kind of hell, and passed under the old archway, using her flashlight to light the smooth rocky path before them. A scuffle of feet behind betrayed the presence of at least one enemy soldier. Kinimaka slowed, but Hayden wrenched him along.

“No time. Just run!”

Bullets slammed into the rock walls. Hayden ducked her head and tore through the dark. Together they hurdled the eternal threat of Wrath, skipping over the inactive fire vents and threaded the needle through Greed, taking the trident paths at full sprint. Their pursuers at first struggled to keep up, probably surprised by their actions, but soon figured out their intentions of running all the way to Odin’s chair.

Bullets impacted around them as they sped through Lust, shattering the outrageous statues, shredding the priceless, inventive paintings, but not slowing them down. They ran hard through the chaos, covered in dirt, rock and lead fragments, heads down, clattering across the temporary bridge that had been erected over Envy’s sulfurous lake, capering on all fours over the belly of the statue of Gluttony, and even rolling part way down the passage that once held the enormous stone spheres.

Bruised, battered and determined, they came at last to the great cavern where the zip-line had once led over to the S-ledge that ended at Odin’s chair. A new incongruous, blue metal bridge had been built across the great chasm. Hayden and Kinimaka leaped onto it and dashed across its length, sending it swaying, but avoiding grabbing the side rails which would only slow them down. Hayden fired over her shoulder as their pursuers — only two men — burst out of a tunnel. They dived to the ground, giving Hayden and her partner scant seconds to jump off the other end.

At last, they panted their way along the final hurdle. Odin’s chair came into view.

And finally Hayden stopped, face stricken with horror. “Oh no, we’re too late.”

A man stood upright on Odin’s throne, arms held straight above his head, face turned up to the roof that soared high above and the skies and heavens beyond.

Was the ground starting to shake?

Drake smashed against the side of the pit, its slope slowing his fall but not enough. His gun disappeared into the bottomless pit. Still he tumbled, and the nightmarish shape of Zanko fell after him, roaring with bloodlust. Then Drake slammed against a man-made platform, a few planks of scaffolding erected by the Russians, and groaned as his descent was abruptly stopped. Pain lanced through his spine, his ribs. But he had no time to assess any injuries.

Zanko crashed down beside him and totally destroyed the platform. Wood splintered and metal poles tumbled away. Drake fell again, clawing at the sides of the pit, but finding no grip in the squelchy mush that hung there. A hard-packed mud outcropping slowed him enough to get a grip, but his feet flailed over pitch blackness. He hauled hard, steadying his legs and rising up. Darkness surrounded him.

After all this, they had lost the fucking sword!

He looked up, seeing Mai at the top of the pit, struggling with someone—

— falling backwards, Mai put her hands behind her head and body-flipped herself straight back to her feet, surprising Razin as he aimed his pistol at her head. A side-kick relieved him of the weapon, but not before it discharged, the bullet almost taking Yorgi’s head off.

“We came back here,” Razin spat at her. “To avenge Zoya’s murder. Where else could you go? This is where it all began.”

Mai wasn’t in any mood to chat. She struck hard at the older man, but he surprised her by skipping back and side-stepping into space.

What was she doing? The Mai Kitano of old, even the Mai of a few weeks ago, would never have let that happen.

She was compromised. She took a breath and tried to clear her mind.

“You came back to Babylon? Just to avenge her. Why would you do that?”

Razin swallowed. “Zoya was my wife.”

Mai opened her mouth, but nothing came out. What was she supposed to say to that? It would be disrespectful to deride the man, despite his flaws. She wasn’t Alicia Myles.

Then Razin’s hand emerged from behind his back. Yorgi screamed a warning, “Another gun!” Mai turned her body to minimize the target and dove at him. Her hands hit the dirt, bent and sprung her body into flight, legs aimed for Razin’s head.

The blow snapped his neck instantly, snuffing out the spark of his life, but not before the gun discharged a single shot, passing millimeters before her torso.

Patterson screamed and slumped as the shot smashed through him, falling and tumbling over the edge of the pit of Babylon, following his dreams down.

Drake could only watch in horror as the body plummeted past. As the professor fell, the flashlight he held fell with him, its beam picking out a flickering kaleidoscope of jagged rock, trailing vines, black mud and—

— the sword!

Drake caught its glint about ten feet above him. The point had wedged into the side of the pit. Quickly, he sank his hands into the sides of the pit and grabbed hold, tested his weight and pulled.

The hand that grabbed his ankle was straight from the stuff of nightmare. It was the monster reaching out from under the bed, the beast crawling up from the pit. It was Zanko, covered in filth.

“Little man,” he breathed. “We have a score to settle.”