The Prisoner's Gold (The Hunters 3)

by Chris Kuzneski

  ‘No, a military-grade, hi-res camera,’ Garcia answered. ‘Gimbal-mounted. Digitally stabilized. Electro-optical infrared. This sucker is bad-ass.’

  ‘Wow,’ McNutt replied. ‘You really are a geek.’

  * * *

  Unfortunately, McNutt had more to worry about than Garcia’s seemingly odd fondness for hi-tech cameras over tactical weapon systems.

  He had scampered across the mountaintop and revisited the case of firearms that he had hidden near the entrance to the secret tunnel, but the addition of an M-4 rifle hadn’t made him completely at ease. Even the presence of Cobb – who had likewise armed himself with the compact assault rifle – didn’t extinguish McNutt’s anxiety.

  It was still two against ten. Or more.

  With an outer perimeter of free-falling death.

  From a mile away, McNutt would have had a distinct advantage.

  But close-quarters combat was a different story.

  65

  Cobb rolled to the ground behind a low wall of bricks, taking fire from one of the men the helicopter had ferried to the summit. They had scattered around the ruins, taking up cover around the corners of various terrace levels or diving behind small walls as Cobb had done.

  McNutt had opened fire immediately, killing one of the men before return fire had forced him to flee and seek his own barricade. Cobb had no idea where he had gone, but he knew they needed to coordinate if they were going to survive.

  ‘Josh, take north. I’ll head south. Push them to the pond in the middle.’

  The gunmen had arrived at the southeast corner of the pond on a small dirt trail that allowed passage around the rainwater-filled pool on that side. Cobb was already south of them, and two levels down, meaning the enemy had the high ground. He needed to make his way up the plateau before they converged on his position.

  * * *

  The helicopter was charging fast behind the drone.

  Garcia started rocking the small craft back and forth, presenting a harder target, as he flew it out over the edge of the rock and away from the battle on the summit. The lone gunman still on board the pursuing chopper was leaning out the side door and trying to knock the drone from the sky with withering bursts of rifle fire.

  Garcia had the advantage on maneuverability. He dropped the nose on the RQ-7, flying the drone nearly vertical in a dive along the edge of the massive rock. The helicopter pilot dipped in pursuit, though not nearly as steeply as Garcia.

  Showing off, he corkscrewed the drone, closer to the mountain as it fell. Then he abruptly brought it up and buzzed past the helicopter, the minigun blazing. Most of the rounds missed the helicopter, with just a few peppering the tail before the drone raced past.

  But that wasn’t the point of Garcia’s maneuver.

  The drone was unmanned and presented no danger to Garcia, whereas the buzzing minigun presented plenty of danger to the Chinese men in the helicopter. The gunman dove back into the passenger compartment, and the pilot banked hard and away from the drone, narrowly avoiding impact. The burst of fire had emptied the rotary-barrel gun on the drone after just the first few shots, but the Chinese pilot didn’t know that. Garcia brought the UAV up in a steep climb, then twisted it in the air and dove down for the helicopter again.

  The pilot reacted, banking away from the rock while trying to gain altitude. They were running scared, but they would soon realize the drone wasn’t firing at them anymore.

  Then Garcia had a crazy idea …

  Who said I have to return the drone to Pakistan?

  They’re just going to tear it apart anyway.

  The RQ-7 had a top speed of 127 mph, and Garcia cranked the accelerator, bringing the UAV toward the escaping helicopter as fast as it could go. A moment later, the pilot of the helicopter started to panic. Garcia could tell as he watched the craft zig and zag on his computer monitor. With every evasive maneuver the bird tried, Garcia’s drone was able to match it. The much smaller UAV could turn on a dime and there was no worry about G-forces on human operators.

  The pilot dropped the helicopter into a steep dive and banked hard back toward the massive stone rock. The gunman reappeared in the open door, firing again on the drone, but Garcia was able to jerk and twitch the smaller craft out of the way of each burst. The helicopter was heading straight for the side of the rock, half way up the plateau.

  Garcia realized this was his chance to finish the job.

  He pushed the drone to its maximum speed and steered the UAV straight at the top of the helicopter’s rotor mount. Though he had no audio of the event, Garcia could’ve sworn that he heard the metallic crunch that it made when the drone impacted its target. He also imagined the scream that the gunman made when he fell out the cargo door and plummeted to his death.

  His fall from the sky actually saved him from the massive fireball that consumed the interior of the cargo hold. The chopper’s blades ripped loose from their mount and the tail boom swung in a full 180-degree arc before it smacked into the side of the rock wall. The whole technological mess crumpled together in a twisted hunk of metal before following the path of least resistance.

  In this case, straight down to the jungle below.

  * * *

  Despite her age, Maggie was faster than she looked. She charged up the main stairs of the plateau, ran past the frescoes, the Mirror Wall, and many other sights on her way to the top. She stopped occasionally to make sure that gunmen weren’t lurking nearby, but she quickly realized that the Brotherhood was focusing its assault on the other side of the plateau.

  This allowed her to run without concern.

  Before she knew it, she was cresting the top of the stairs, ducking behind ramparts, and eventually making her way inside the mouth of the tunnel.

  * * *

  Cobb rolled to the end of his terrace and dropped one level lower before moving back toward the west and the slightly higher ground. He assumed McNutt would already have gone that way, seeking the raised terraces and platforms that the western side of the summit provided. If McNutt could get back to the northern edge of the rock, he could cover all of it from the high ground there, which was easily thirty feet above the rest of the summit.

  Garcia chimed in. ‘I killed the drone, but I’ve got real-time satellite now.’

  ‘Do you see me?’ Cobb whispered.

  ‘I do, and so does the gunman at your eleven o’clock. He’s trying to belly-crawl his way west, just under the pond.’

  Cobb sprang to his feet with the M-4 leveled, and sighted on the man. He fired a single round that hit the crawling man and sprayed his blood on the adjacent wall. Before return fire could come his way, Cobb dropped back down.

  ‘Holy shit,’ Garcia said. ‘That was fast.’

  A moment later, the wall in front of Cobb started to disintegrate under heavy fire from three directions. Cobb had no choice but to hunker down and ride out the storm.

  ‘Josh!’ Cobb called. ‘They have me pinned.’

  In response, he heard the sniper’s rifle crack twice.

  Each shot was punctuated with pink mist.

  ‘Damn,’ Garcia said, stunned by McNutt’s efficiency. ‘Two more down. And on the second guy, that was waaaaay down.’

  McNutt grinned at the commentary. He wondered how many bodies had already plunged off the plateau. ‘I’ve got eyes on the pond. As soon as they pop up, I’ll take them out.’

  ‘Hold up,’ Garcia said as he watched the satellite feed on his screen. ‘One of them is already north of your position. He’s crawling behind a rampart along the eastern edge.’

  ‘Where?’ McNutt said. ‘Describe the landmarks to me. I can punch right through his cover with this rifle if I know where he is.’

  ‘Umm, let me see. Go north of the pond by about fifteen feet. Maybe five feet out from the end of that terrace. There’s a low wall running parallel to the edge.’

  ‘I see it. Where’s his head?’ McNutt asked.

  ‘His head? Umm, maybe six or seven feet from the
corner. He’s on his knees.’

  McNutt processed the information instantly, then pulled the trigger. The round blasted a hole through the wall just a few inches in front of the crawling man, who immediately reversed direction and scrambled backward.

  ‘South one meter,’ Garcia said.

  He corrected and fired again. This time the shot found its mark.

  ‘I’ll be damned. You got him right through the wall.’

  McNutt grinned. ‘Never had a satellite spotter before … Not bad, Manuel.’

  * * *

  Cobb stayed in position, waiting for a target to show or another update.

  Before Garcia could warn him, one of the gunmen bolted toward Cobb’s side of the plateau. He followed the same path the crawler had taken before him. Meanwhile, another two men broke cover and ran toward McNutt’s most recent kill behind the rampart.

  McNutt opened fire on his duo with his M-4, spraying a single continuous wave at the weaving men. He killed one and clipped the other in the shoulder. Cobb fired as well, just as Garcia started shouting in their ears.

  ‘It’s a diversion,’ Garcia yelled. ‘The others are running south under the cover of trees. They must’ve figured out that we have sat coverage.’

  ‘Where are they heading?’ Cobb demanded as he emptied his magazine into the gunman rushing toward him. The man fell dead as Cobb scrabbled up the path behind him.

  ‘Hang on,’ Garcia said. ‘Switching to infrared now. With all this running, their bodies are gonna be glowing bright red.’

  ‘Hurry up, Hector. I’m kind of—’

  ‘Jack,’ Garcia said, cutting him off. ‘Time to move to the western high ground. Your guys are going all the way south. They’re going to try to outflank you.’

  * * *

  McNutt fired his assault rifle until the magazine ran dry. He casually tossed it aside and pulled out his pistol. The Beretta M-9 was one of a handful of available models easily found in Sri Lanka. The armed forces used a hodgepodge of weapons from different countries, so there were a lot floating around. He’d had his choice of Austrian, British, and German pistols, but McNutt opted for Italian since Polo – and their mission – had started in Italy.

  ‘Where is he, Tito?’ McNutt demanded.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The guy I clipped in the shoulder.’

  Garcia paused. ‘He’s heading for the stairs. Maybe he’s bugging out.’

  McNutt ran for the northwest corner, then veered to the east, spotting the man running for the edge. He fired his pistol on the move, hitting the fleeing man in the back and sending his body crashing to the dirt. McNutt kept running toward him with the barrel of the M-9 leveled, but the fallen man didn’t move.

  Still, he shot him again just to be sure.

  It was time to go help Cobb.

  * * *

  Cobb exchanged fire with two men who had chosen the low ground in exchange for the series of terraces that provided cover when facing north. They were peppering the sides of the platform that he was lying on, but he couldn’t see them well enough to aim.

  They kept ducking behind the wall.

  Even worse, Cobb realized they were near the opening to the cave.

  ‘Jack,’ Garcia said, ‘one’s moving for the stairs on your right.’

  Cobb rolled to his side and saw the man pop up. With spare magazines in his pocket, Cobb didn’t hold back. He fired seven rounds in a rapid grouping down the path, hitting the man in at least three places. Then he rolled back under cover, just as the other man returned fire from the middle of the rock. Cobb ejected his magazine and slapped another home.

  Pinned down in his current position, Cobb cursed under his breath. Anytime he tried to move, the gunman fired in his general direction. Even though he kept missing, the edge of the rock platform kept spitting shards of brick and stone at Cobb. So far, he had suffered only a few scratches, but eventually one of the gunman’s shots would do some damage.

  ‘Are they flanking me?’ Cobb whispered.

  Garcia stared at his screen. ‘I don’t see anyone but that one guy. Josh is on his way down. He’s using the east side.’

  ‘Josh,’ Cobb said. ‘Hold your position.’

  McNutt ducked behind a wall. ‘Say again?’

  ‘I can handle one guy. No need to bail me out. Worry about the rest of the mountain.’

  ‘Copy that, chief.’

  Cobb chanced a quick look. The guy was ducked down behind the terrace wall. He hadn’t fired in several seconds. ‘What’s he doing? Is he reloading?’

  Garcia nodded. ‘Sure looks like it from outer space.’

  Cobb got to his feet in a crouch. ‘Tell me when he chambers.’

  ‘Hang on … any second. And … now!’

  Before Garcia had finished the vowel sound, Cobb was sprinting as fast as he could. He ran to the edge of his platform and leaped up and out into the air. His body sailed out over the square pond that was nearly thirty feet below him and he began his descent.

  The Chinese man popped up and fired at the rock ledge where Cobb had been, but by then Cobb was already plunging through the air, his Beretta up, and sighting on the man. Cobb fired most of the magazine, hitting the man more than missing, before he landed feet-first into the rainwater, sending up a huge splash behind him.

  Cobb knew the retention pond was over ten feet deep, so he had plenty of time to slow his acceleration before his boots hit the bottom. A few seconds later, his head broke free from the water and he swam to the edge of the pond just as gunfire broke out to his east. He raised his weapon from the murky water, ready to defend himself, but quickly realized it wasn’t necessary.

  McNutt was running forward with his pistol raised. On the turf in front of him was an injured gunman, who tried to get off one last shot. McNutt fired again and ended the threat.

  ‘You’re clear,’ Garcia said in their ears.

  Cobb crawled out of the murky brown water and immediately checked his magazine. He still had a few rounds left in his Beretta. Dripping wet and out of breath, he walked toward McNutt, who had crouched beside one of the dead gunmen.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Cobb asked.

  McNutt rolled the man onto his back. As a former Marine, he was trained to study the faces of his victims, hoping upon hope that they had killed one of their top threats. ‘Unless I’m mistaken, that’s a guy from our briefing. Isn’t he number two?’

  Cobb nodded his confirmation. ‘Sure looks like it.’

  Garcia chimed in. ‘Number two is Lim Bao. He’s one of the men that we spotted at the airport and the right-hand man of Feng He, the leader of the Brotherhood.’

  McNutt glanced at the nearby bodies. ‘None of these are Feng.’

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ Cobb said. ‘If he’s as rich and powerful as Maggie claimed, there’s a very good chance that he’s sitting this one out. Just because he’s in country, doesn’t mean he’s on site. I mean, Papi’s on a yacht right now while we’re getting dirty.’

  McNutt grinned. ‘You hear that, Franco? You better lock the door at the hotel. There’s a damn good chance that the main dragon is hanging out near you.’

  Garcia swallowed hard, then stood up to lock the door.

  66

  Maggie unclipped her rappelling harness and stepped into the narrow corridor. It was exactly as Sarah had described it earlier, so Maggie knew to look for the wooden covering on the floor that protected the lower levels. Fortunately, Cobb had left it open during his exit. She doubted that she could have moved it herself.

  ‘I’m down the shaft and into the passageway,’ Maggie reported to the others. ‘I see the opening to the second descent.’

  ‘Great,’ Sarah replied. ‘You’re past the hard part already. You won’t need climbing gear in the next shaft. Just use the ladder built into the wall. If it was strong enough to support Jack, it can definitely hold you.’

  A few minutes later, Maggie had made the climb down to the expansive room at the base of the shaft. As
she dropped to the solid rock, she marveled at the scope of the chamber. Despite its plain, natural features, the cavern seemed to be imbued with a sense of character. It was as if she could actually feel its importance.

  ‘Fantastic,’ Maggie said. ‘Truly fantastic.’

  ‘With hopefully a lot more to come,’ Sarah answered from across the space. ‘We just need to figure out how to get through this door.’

  ‘What door?’ Maggie asked.

  Sarah popped another glow stick, further illuminating the massive doorway at the farthest corner of the room. Maggie walked over to find not only a wide wooden door, but also a four-foot-high pedestal that displayed a bound codex.

  ‘Sarah,’ she exclaimed, ‘why didn’t you mention that you found another book?’

  ‘You were already headed my way, and anxious people tend to make mistakes. We needed you focused on the task in front of you.’ She pointed at the codex. ‘We still do.’

  Maggie inspected the codex on its perch. The pages were bound with string that had almost fully decomposed with age. She wondered if the book could withstand even her most delicate investigation.

  For all she knew, the text might disintegrate at the slightest touch.

  Still, she had to try.

  ‘It’s written in Mongolian,’ she said as she carefully examined the first page.

  ‘Good,’ Sarah said. ‘I think the combination is, too.’

  Maggie stopped reading. ‘What combination?’

  Sarah pointed to a small brass wheel at the center of the wooden door. It looked like a miniaturized version of a captain’s wheel from an old steamship, with eight spokes passing through a solid ring. At the end of each spoke was a knob, and each knob had been etched with a passage in artful script. Though she was far from an expert in linguistics, Sarah realized the words in the book looked very similar to the symbols on the wheel.

  ‘I’m betting that the hub spins,’ Sarah explained. ‘I haven’t tried it yet – I didn’t want the wrong movement to trigger defenses that would permanently lock us out – but nothing else fits. I’ve scoured every inch of this place looking for another exit, and this is the only one. I’ve been studying this door for long enough to know that it’s sealed, as in airtight, and the only option I can see to open it is to dial that wheel to the right combination.’