Empire of Gold nwaec-7

by Andy McDermott

  Mac held up the rocket launcher. ‘I won’t be able to use this.’

  ‘You’re going to blow up the helicopter? But Stikes has the statues.’

  ‘That’s the least of my worries.’ He indicated the tower the expedition had passed on their way to the plaza. ‘I should be able to get a good shot from there before he takes off. Come on!’ He started a limping jog towards it.

  Kit followed, his face betraying his secret concern.

  Stikes and Voeker reached the Hind and jumped through the open rear hatch. The mercenary leader grabbed a headset. ‘Gurov! Take off, now!’

  ‘I can’t!’ came the reply. ‘There’s a problem with the port engine, oil pressure. I need to bring it up to speed slowly.’

  ‘How long?’

  ‘A minute. What about the others?’

  ‘There’s no one left to wait for,’ said Stikes coldly. He put the case down in the empty seat beside him and secured it with the harness straps. ‘Besides, I’ve got what I came for.’

  The steep alley ended where it met a wider, shallower pathway, the rush of water bowling Eddie into one of the small tombs. Tightly wrapped mummies, now sodden and waterlogged, crunched underneath him. Bruised and winded by his uncontrollable trip down the hard-sided waterslide, he stood—

  Baine slithered into the tomb in a burst of spray and slammed a boot into Eddie’s stomach. ‘All right, Yorkie?’ he cried as Eddie doubled over. He jumped to his feet, delivering another kick to his former comrade’s midsection. ‘Yeah, ’ave some of that! You broke one of my fucking teeth in Caracas – you know how shit the dentists are down here?’ More kicks. Eddie collapsed in a corner, scattering bones and ritual items. Baine moved closer. ‘Gonna break your fucking neck—’

  Eddie whipped up a length of cloth like a slingshot – with a skeletal arm folded inside it. It smashed against the side of Baine’s head. Eddie followed up with a punch. From his awkward position it didn’t have much power behind it, but was hard enough to make the bigger man retreat. Eddie held in a groan as he pushed himself upright. ‘You couldn’t break a fucking pencil, you southern ponce.’

  Baine balled his fists. ‘Always ’ad some fucking smart-arse comment, didn’t you? Now me, I stick to—’

  He broke off abruptly, driving a fearsome punch at Eddie’s head. The Yorkshireman barely managed to dodge, Baine’s knuckles clipping his ear. His military training had taught him that the mere act of speaking demanded a surprisingly large part of the brain’s processing power, detracting from its ability to react to sudden events – but Baine had the same training and had played on Eddie’s expectations to launch a surprise attack.

  Another blow, forcing Eddie back a step to avoid it. Baine advanced, fists raised like a boxer. Eddie, realising he was being cornered, brought up his own hands to defend – and took a brutal blow just inches from his groin from the other man’s foot. Not just a boxer – a kickboxer. Baine had expanded his skill set over the past decade.

  The mercenary grinned malevolently. ‘Yeah, weren’t expecting that, were you? Feet an’ fists – I can take you down with either.’ A few feints from both pairs of extremities. Eddie countered, but knew that in the confined space, when the real attack came he wouldn’t be able to avoid it. ‘You’re getting slow, Yorkie! Married life’ll do that, turn you into a useless fat fucker.’ A glance at Eddie’s hairline. ‘Makes you go bald too!’ He laughed—

  Eddie struck, this time landing a solid blow to Baine’s upper jaw. The punch split the skin on his knuckles, but the Essex man came off worse, the inside of his lip tearing against his front teeth and the cartilage of his septum snapping. He staggered back, spitting blood.

  This time, it was Eddie’s turn to deliver a kick – but even through his pain Baine still had the reflexes to twist away from a ball-crunching impact. Snarling, he dived at the Yorkshireman. Eddie punched him again, but couldn’t avoid the collision – or stop himself from being driven against the wall.

  ‘Fucker!’ yelled Baine as they grappled. His greater size and weight gave him the advantage, pushing his opponent further down into the tomb’s corner. He jerked up a knee and hit Eddie squarely in the stomach.

  Gasping, Eddie struggled to recover, but Baine shoved his head back against the stone wall with a crack. Dizzied, he tried to rise—

  Baine’s forearm pressed across his throat like a steel beam, choking him.

  Mac ran up the steps into the tower, Kit behind him. As he had hoped, it gave him an excellent view over the plaza.

  The Hind was still on the ground, but the amount of spray being kicked up by its downwash told him that it was almost at takeoff power. He brought up the RPG-7 and looked down the sights. The Russian weapon’s aiming system was crude, but at a fairly short distance against a large stationary target he didn’t need to do anything beyond point it in the right direction and fire.

  ‘Mac, what if Eddie’s down there?’ Kit protested. ‘You might kill him.’

  ‘He’s not on the plaza, so he’s safe,’ Mac replied. The Hind was fixed in the sights. ‘Clear behind!’

  ‘No, Mac – if they know you’ve got a rocket, we can force them to surrender!’

  ‘Kit, the backblast on this thing will kill you,’ Mac snapped impatiently. The helicopter shifted on its landing gear as the rotors reached full speed. It would lift off in a matter of seconds. ‘This is our only chance – move!’

  He saw in the corner of his eye that Kit had moved out of the rocket’s deadly exhaust cone, then turned his attention back to the sights. He flicked off the safety, steeling himself for the jolt of firing as he tightened his finger on the trigger—

  Two bullets hit him in the back.

  Mac collapsed, searing pain swallowing his senses. Blood gushed from the wounds. The unfired RPG-7 clunked down beside him.

  Kit stood frozen, the smoking Steyr clutched in his hand. His eyes were wide in shock at what he had just done. His mouth opened, an apology, a confession, on his lips . . . then it snapped shut. Dismay disappeared, replaced by determination. He ran down the stairs, leaving the dying man behind.

  36

  Eddie kicked and thrashed at Baine, but couldn’t shift the thick arm crushing his throat. Darkness pulsed in from the edges of his vision with each beat of his heart. His hands scrabbled over the detritus of the tomb for anything he could use as a weapon, but found nothing except cloth and desiccated flesh.

  The darkness swelled again, narrowing his view to a tunnel: Baine leering down at him, the entrance behind.

  Another pulse – and something changed—

  He tried to speak, only a raw croak escaping his mouth. Baine leaned closer, cruel smile widening. ‘Wassat, Yorkie?’

  ‘Marriage . . .’ Eddie managed to rasp.

  Puzzled, Baine eased the pressure on Eddie’s neck very slightly. ‘Marriage? What about it? Makes you fat an’ bald – what else?’

  Eddie choked out more words. ‘Someone – always – got your back.’ To Baine’s surprise, his grimace turned into a crooked smile. ‘Like – now!’

  A mummified skull smashed down on the mercenary’s head.

  Nina stood behind him, wincing at the pain in her hand. ‘Dammit, that really hurt! Oh, crap,’ she added as Baine recovered from the shock and glared over his shoulder at her.

  ‘Yeah, that did fucking hurt, you bitch!’ he snarled, spitting out more blood. He turned to face Nina. Behind him, Eddie slumped to the water-covered floor, more burial artefacts clattering around him.

  Nina brandished the skull, before realising that without the element of surprise it was all but useless as a weapon. She backed towards the exit. ‘Great, I had to pick frickin’ Yorick and not a gun . . .’

  Baine advanced, face full of fury—

  ‘Oi!’ said a gravelly voice from behind him. ‘Twat!’

  Baine spun – and Eddie plunged an ornate golden dagger into his stomach. The mercenary roared as the Yorkshireman twisted the tumi, forcing the blade deeper into his body.

/>   But despite the agony, Baine wasn’t incapacitated. He caught the still winded Eddie with a savage punch, knocking him down. Another kick hammered into Eddie’s stomach, then Baine pivoted to smash his steel-capped combat boot into his face—

  The skull cracked down on his head again, shattering into fragments. Baine slumped to his knees, falling forward. Eddie rolled out of the way – and the mercenary splashed down face first, driving the knife all the way into his abdomen. He let out a long, bubbling moan, then was silent. A red circle swelled in the water around him.

  Eddie sat up. ‘He’s got a tumi in his tummy,’ he groaned.

  Nina was too worried to complain about the terrible joke. ‘Oh my God, Eddie? Are you all right?’

  ‘Help me up, and we’ll see if any bits fall off.’

  Nina stepped over Baine’s body. ‘Sorry about your friend,’ she said to the remaining mummies as she pulled Eddie to his feet.

  With the water level dropping all the time, Macy had been able to increase her pace through the city. She had spotted first Mac, then Nina, hurrying down the hill and decided to follow them, but so far hadn’t seen any further sign of anyone. And the two gunshots she had just heard prompted her to duck into hiding. Were Pachac and his people still around?

  It was obvious that Stikes and his men were leaving, though. The helicopter rose above the plaza, making a careful half-turn before heading for the cave mouth. One less set of assholes to worry about, then, but she still felt far from safe.

  Macy looked cautiously around, seeing nobody, then moved out and continued down the slope. The Hind was approaching the cavern’s entrance. Once it left, she might actually be able to hear if there was anyone nearby—

  She rounded a corner – and found a gun pointing at her.

  Shock and fear quickly turned to relief as she realised it was Kit, who seemed equally startled. ‘Jeez!’ she gasped, unable to hold back a nervous giggle. ‘You scared me!’

  For a moment, the gun remained still . . . then Kit relaxed and lowered it, ‘Sorry. Are you okay?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine. Have you seen Nina or Eddie? Or Mr McCrimmon?’

  ‘No . . . no,’ he said, the repetition more firm. ‘Eddie went after Stikes – I’m looking for Mac.’

  A flight of steps nearby led up to the tower. ‘I saw him not long ago – I think he was heading that way.’ She started towards them.

  Kit shook his head firmly, moving to block her. ‘No, I saw some of Pachac’s men go up there.’ He pointed to a nearby building. ‘Wait in there and keep out of sight until it’s safe. I’ll . . . look for Mac.’

  Macy reluctantly did as she was told as Kit ascended the steps. ‘Take care,’ she called to him.

  He didn’t reply, or even look back.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ Nina asked Eddie as they left the tomb.

  ‘Lighter.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘’Cause I just had the shit kicked out of me.’

  ‘Very funny.’

  They looked up to see the Hind clearing the cave mouth. ‘Buggeration and fuckery!’ Eddie growled. ‘Stikes got away.’

  ‘Well, good!’ said Nina. ‘If he’s gone, we don’t have to worry about him any more.’

  ‘He’s got your statues.’

  ‘What? Oh. Oh! God damn it!’ She scowled after the departing aircraft as it powered away. ‘Son of a bitch!’

  ‘Does it matter?’ Eddie asked as he started to limp back up the slope. ‘He can’t do anything with ’em, and they helped us find El Dorado – what else can they do?’

  ‘That was kinda what I wanted to find out!’

  ‘Well, you can worry about it when we get back to New York. For now, we still need to get out of here. Let’s find the others.’

  ‘Mac had the rocket launcher – he said he was going to try to shoot down the helicopter.’ Eddie stopped. ‘What?’ Nina asked, reading concern on his face.

  ‘He didn’t even try – we would have heard it.’ He looked around for the most likely spot from which to launch an attack. ‘Up there,’ he said, indicating the tower. He set off again. ‘Mac! Mac, can you hear me?’

  Kit had halted once he was out of Macy’s sight, mind a whirlwind of confusion and guilt – until Eddie’s shout snapped him back to full awareness. It wouldn’t be long before the Scot was found—

  An idea, the Interpol officer acting upon it the instant it formed. He hurried back into the tower. Mac lay unmoving on the floor, blood pooling around him. Kit sat against the wall behind him, fired two shots into the air – then moved the gun to point at his upper arm.

  He braced himself – and pulled the trigger.

  Eddie broke into a run at the sound of gunfire. He reached the steps, seeing Macy peering fearfully from a nearby building. ‘Stay out of sight!’ he warned her.

  ‘Eddie, wait!’ Nina cried behind him, but he pounded up the steps and raced for the tower, the pain of his beating forgotten. Past a junction, up another flight of steps—

  He stopped at the top as if he had slammed into an invisible wall. Kit was slumped on the floor, clutching a bloody wound to his left arm – but all Eddie could think about was Mac. His friend lay face down by the wall overlooking the city, the RPG-7 beside him. There were two bullet wounds in his back, lines of blood oozing from them.

  ‘Mac?’ He took a clumsy step closer, feet as heavy as lead. The figure didn’t stir. Another step. ‘Mac!’

  Nina ran up behind him. ‘Eddie – oh, God.’

  Kit moaned. ‘Pachac,’ he said weakly. ‘It was Pachac . . . caught us by surprise, then ran . . .’

  Eddie reached Mac and stood over him, statue-like. Even through his horror, part of his mind was still functioning with trained, robotic clarity, assessing the injuries. The wounds were close together on the left side of his back. They would have hit the lung, probably also the heart. From the amount of pooled blood, there would also be a much larger exit wound in his chest. Even with immediate surgical intervention the chances of survival were extremely low.

  But there would be no surgery. They were miles from any help.

  He knelt, the blood soaking into the material of his jeans. Movement – slight, but definite. Mac was still breathing. He reached down, finding that his fingers were shaking. A hesitant touch on the older man’s shoulder. ‘Mac? Can you hear me?’

  Silence for several seconds . . . then a faint sigh of drawing breath. Little bubbles formed in one of the bullet wounds. Mac slowly, painfully, turned his head, one half-closed eye blearily focusing on the man beside him. ‘Eddie?’ His voice was barely a whisper.

  ‘Yeah. Yeah, it’s me. It’s me.’

  The Scot moved his hand, trying to reach up but lacking the strength. Eddie gripped it. The skin already felt cold. ‘I’m sorry . . .’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘Stikes . . . Had him right in my sights before he took off, but . . . not fast enough. I let him get away . . .’

  ‘No, you didn’t, it wasn’t your fault,’ said Eddie, shaking his head. ‘Look, I’m – I’m gonna try to stop the bleeding.’ He knew it was futile, but he had to do something. ‘Hold still, and I’ll—’

  ‘No, Eddie.’ Mac groaned, more bubbles rising from the blood-filled holes. ‘Not . . . worth it.’

  ‘It is worth it!’ His voice cracked as he spoke.

  ‘No, not going to . . .’ Mac’s whole body trembled. His hand now felt like stone. He whispered something.

  Eddie leaned closer, desperate. ‘Mac, I can’t hear you. Stay with me, stay with me!’

  With a last agonising effort, Mac turned his head further so he could look up at his friend with both eyes. He spoke again, forcing out the words. ‘Fight to the end . . . Eddie.’

  Then nothing. The sagging of his body was so slight that it was barely noticeable, but it was all Eddie needed to know without a doubt that he was dead.

  ‘Mac,’ he said anyway, pleading for him to return. ‘Mac, come on. Mac!’

  Tears beading in her ey
es, Nina crossed to him. ‘Eddie, I . . . ’ she began, before stopping, unsure what to say. ‘I’m sorry,’ she eventually whispered, touching his shoulder.

  He didn’t look up at her, instead staring silently at the man who had shaped so much of his life, the man he had respected and admired above all others. He reluctantly let go of Mac’s hand, then reached over and gently closed his eyes. ‘Fight to the end,’ he echoed, voice hoarse.

  Running footsteps. Nina looked back in alarm, but it was only Macy and Osterhagen hurrying up the steps. ‘I heard shots . . .’ said Osterhagen, before tailing off at the sight of the tableau.