Weapons of the Gods

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

The darkness was infested with rats.

Only these rats wore desert clothing and carried guns. They had nothing but murder on their mind, rebels until they died.

At first, the blackness inside the cave was overwhelming. Illumination came from the infrequent lanterns that had been hung around the rock walls. It was clear there were others inside from the moment they entered the complex.

Echoing conversation, a low bleat of laughter, and rough words came from several adjoining passages, making it impossible to check who was where. The team moved a step at a time, passing archways and ragged holes in the rock walls that led through the complex. In one corner they found three men fast asleep, in another a pair of manacles attached roughly to the rock with heavy pins. Bits of clothing lay all around but no sign of a body. The team sobered even further. Darkness pressed in at every opportunity.

Dahl aimed the tracker signal in front of them as often as possible. Occasionally they had to branch left or right, but soon found a path that led down. The way wasn’t without its peril either. Three times the group were forced to split up and hide around alcoves or jutting walls as fighters came past. From what Drake could see they were a ragtag bunch, undisciplined and quiet, solitary and lacking enthusiasm. They walked without observation, many looking down at their feet.

Of course, they would never expect an enemy in here; the place they’d frequented for years. Still, their complacency lent increasing hope to the team

If we can get down, we can get back up. Safe. Free.

Drake stifled his building confidence as Dahl came to an abrupt halt. The Swede pressed instantly back against the wall, making those behind follow suit. Slowly, he clicked the comms button, whispering, “Passage opens into a chamber ahead with four exits. There are four men playing cards right at the center, heads down. No way past.”

Luther was first to react. “Knives.”

Again, the big man was right, but the warrior’s lust betrayed him as he walked up to Dahl. Molokai was at his back. Kenzie was right behind him, trying to restrain Smyth.

“Sooner we get this done, the sooner we all go home,” Smyth growled.

Drake let Luther have his head and covered the path they’d already trod. Mai had been ranging back there to check nobody was following and now appeared.

“All clear.”

Luther’s voice filled his ears. “We’re done here. C’mon.”

Past the chamber and down they went, further and further. Luther and Molokai had concealed the bodies in a place they said would not be found until decay set in. The cave complex was vast, but not hard to navigate. All they needed was a downward slope and Dahl’s GPR device.

“Is the signal strengthening?” Kinimaka asked once.

“Steadily,” Dahl replied. “Too bloody steadily.”

It meant the artifact was far underground. Little by little, step by step, they fell deeper and deeper into the bowels of the earth.

“How heavy is this thing?” Hayden asked as they walked, seeing fewer and fewer enemies now. “I’m worried about carting it all the way back up.”

“I will do that,” Molokai said.

“No,” Drake stepped in. “Let’s gauge the weight first.”

“I will carry it,” Molokai said again in a stern voice.

“Leave it.” Luther tapped Drake’s shoulder. “He’s a beast.”

The Yorkshireman regarded the mammoth soldier that spoke. “Riiight, okay then.”

The hours passed. What appeared to be a raiding party came running up from below — four men wearing dusty, drab clothes wrapped every which way and carrying AK47s. They were primed, pumped up, chattering to each other about some task they’d been set. Drake wasn’t good with the language, only catching a third of the words. He considered ambushing them purely because they carried radios, but by the time he’d made the decision they were gone.

Further on, they came to a vast arch in the mountain. Drake saw rushing water ahead — a torrent falling from some place above, passing before their eyes and vanishing below. The underground waterfall filled their ears; its spray touching their faces. Drake found a narrow ledge that ran behind it and stepped on, hugging the wall. Helpful handholds had been cut into the rock, so he clasped them with his fingers, sidestepping along. For once, the comms were absolutely silent as the team used every ounce of concentration for balance. The ledge was no more than a foot wide and, in places, their heels hung over the edge.

The endless flow cascaded so close they could feel its power in their guts. Drake was soaked already. Of course, any confrontation here would end in certain death, but they managed to climb past. The ledge widened and continued along the rock face ahead for a while before descending into another jagged tunnel.

Drake halted for a moment and looked back. A bedraggled group presented itself, equipment dripping, hair plastered down, many wiping their eyes.

The ledge curved steeply and the drop to their left was only too apparent. It wasn’t until they entered the new tunnel that the waterfall roar started to die away.

The noise of boots came from up ahead. Drake stopped in his tracks. Walls rose to either side.

“Nowhere to go.” He tapped the comms and dropped to one knee, sighting his gun.

Luther appeared above him, sighting another. “Got you covered, bud.”

Out of the darkness a man appeared. He seemed to be squinting, unable to believe what stood before him. Drake fired first and then Luther, their weapons fitted with silencers. The barrels barked quietly and the man went down, his own weapon clattering. Drake quickly checked he was alone.

“All clear. Move out.”

Ten minutes later they exited the tunnel and entered a wider chamber. Passages ran left, right and straight on, leading down. Dahl’s signal was finally starting to glow brighter and become more centered. The Forge of Vulcan was close.

Drake pushed on. The ground in front, wreathed in shadow, descended sharply and then seemed to disappear. Drake assumed it was deeper darkness until he got up close to it.

And felt the draught rushing up.

“Whoa!”

He staggered back, suddenly beset by a rush of giddiness. A deep void lay ahead, just a crevice in the floor: murky, deadly and unexpected.

“Big trench,” he said aloud, squinting to make out the far side. “Not good. I can’t see shit in here.”

Luther took out and cracked a handful of glowsticks. “These will help.”

The first he tossed over didn’t make it; it barely made halfway. The second hit the crevice wall. The third landed on rock, spinning, and cast its orange glow over their new predicament.

“How far?” Hayden asked.

“Gotta be ten feet,” Luther said.

“Fifteen,” Molokai decided.

“Well,” Drake was scanning the fissure both ways, “the enemy must jump it. There’s no bridge. Not even a plank of wood.”

Mai and Smyth shone their flashlights around the chamber to make sure. They came up empty-handed, shrugging. Drake looked at the group.

“Anyone nervous?”

Without waiting he turned, sprinted and jumped. His arms wind-milled in mid-flight, the HK smacked him in the cheekbone, and then he landed safely on solid rock, rolling just once for good measure.

Dahl threw him the device, then jumped. The rest of the team came one by one. If there were any nerves none were shown. “Hard as nails,” Drake said, grinning as the last man, Smyth, leapt across.

Once more, they descended.

More time passed them by. It was Dahl that said: “Any deeper and we’ll be in Hell,” but the words sent a shiver trickling up Drake’s spine. The Swede was right. The descent felt endless, the vast complex around them crushingly prodigious. With every moment that passed they fell deeper and deeper toward their goal, so far below the earth they’d all lost the will to speak.

Finally, Dahl stopped. “The signal is as centered as it will ever get,” he said. “The forge should be just around the next corner.”

Drake shook himself, keeping focus, remembering most treasures were usually guarded. “Just don’t forget,” he said in a light voice. “We’re never gonna get it back up there without a plank.”

“Ah, the woes of all treasure hunters,” Alicia said, upbeat.

“Two would be better,” Dahl said.

“Why, one for each foot?”

“We could lash them together.”

“Fine. Two planks. Now, are we ready?”

Luther was already there.