The Five Greatest Warriors

by Matthew Reilly

  “The plane is a decoy,” Mao Gongli’s voice came in over the radio. “Close in on that smaller signal and kill it!”

  As the first tsunami wave rushed toward Easter Island, sweeping in over the section of seabed that had been exposed earlier, the Halicarnassus streaked low over its leading edge.

  It was going to touch down ahead of the approaching wave, right in front of the ancient hangar-sized doorway to the Vertex. But it did nothing to prepare for landing: it did not alter its angle of approach nor did it lower its landing gear.

  The ghost plane just hit the exposed section of seabed roughly and skidded across it, sliding wildly across the wet sand before one of its wings slammed into the ancient doorway cut into the cliff base and the wing was sheared clean off, while the rest of the plane went sliding inside the massive doorway.

  The tsunami wave followed it ten seconds later, thundering into the northwestern corner of Easter Island, a giant foaming wall of whitewater. It smashed against the cliffs, sending spray showering skyward, while inside the Vertex’s multipillared entry hall, the great wave just picked up the Halicarnassus and hurled it forward, throwing the 747 as if it were a child’s plaything onto the hill of steps at the far end, depositing it there only a few minutes after Wolf’s entry team had themselves stepped over the hill.

  Minutes later, as the first wave of the tsunami lost its momentum and curled around the northern side of the island, the Chinese interceptors that had gone south in pursuit of Jack’s tiny Gullwing signal caught up with him . . .

  . . . and found only the Gullwings, flying by remote, with a smiley-faced sandbag mannequin named George strapped into them.

  At the same moment, inside the Vertex, the sorry carcass of the Halicarnassus teetered on the top of the step hill, a sloshing body of water filling the entry hall behind it.

  The plane was an absolute wreck: one wing had been ripped off; its underbelly was beyond repair, eviscerated by the slide across the ocean floor; all of its cockpit windows were shattered and clumps of wet sand lined its gun turrets.

  For a long moment, the once-great 747 sat silent and still, perched on the summit of the step hill, when abruptly one of its wing-mounted doors was kicked open from the inside . . .

  . . . and out of the destroyed plane stepped Jack West Jr.

  THE SIXTH VERTEX AT EASTER ISLAND

  JACK BEHELD the Sixth Vertex.

  Compared to the other Vertices he’d seen, it seemed a rather simple structure, but its appearance was deceptive.

  The Sixth Vertex was fashioned in the shape of an enormous funnel with steeply sloping sides converging to a round abyss at the bottom. It was perhaps a thousand feet wide at the top, but only two hundred feet at the base.

  Suspended above it all, of course, was a familiar inverted bronze pyramid—which right now bore many pulsing amber flares on two of its sides, no doubt fired by Carnivore on his arrival earlier to illuminate the vast space.

  In the dim golden light, Jack assessed the surface of the immense funnel: it appeared to be solid, but on closer examination, he saw that it was not.

  Not at all.

  The funnel’s surface was made up of thousands—perhaps millions—of viciously sharp five-foot-high spikes carved from some kind of slate-colored stone. Each spike was positioned only a foot from the next one, creating a dense forest of the things—which, when multiplied to cover the surface area of the immense funnel, made it seem solid.

  Jack touched the tip one of the gray spikes. It drew blood, even with a light touch.

  Off to his left, a trench of some sort cut through the chest-high forest of supersharp spikes. It looked like a path and Jack saw that it wound irregularly back and forth down the slope of the funnel, providing safe passage through the spike forest before finally arriving at a fortified battlement-like structure mounted at the edge of the abyss. Stretching out from this structure was a long ornate balcony that gave access to the pyramid’s peak.

  Jack guessed that while the path led you through the spike forest, it also contained this Vertex’s traps, to which the golden plaque’s frame would provide the solution. Indeed, right now, he saw Wolf and Mao and their team rushing down the path, about a third of the way down its length, their heads bobbing above the spikes.

  It was 5:51 P.M.

  The last Pillar had to be laid at 6 P.M., at the moment of the Dual Equinox.

  And then Jack saw Carnivore.

  He was a long way ahead of Wolf, down on the balcony that stretched out over the abyss to the pyramid. Iolanthe, Diane Cassidy, Lily, and Alexander were with him, along with his four Spetsnaz bodyguards.

  Mounted on a line of stone pedestals near him were the four Ramesean Stones he needed: the Firestone, the Philosopher’s Stone, the Basin of Ra-meses, and the Twin Tablets of Thutmosis.

  Also positioned on a pedestal of their own were all five of the previously charged Pillars, variously taken from the other players in this quest after they had laid them.

  And in Carnivore’s hand was the Sixth Pillar, the Jesus Pillar, found by Jack in the Roman salt mine. It was dripping wet.

  As the Halicarnassus had made its spectacular entrance, Carnivore had just finished double-cleansing the Sixth Pillar in the springwater-filled Basin. He spun when he heard the resounding bang of the Halicarnassus landing on the summit of the funnel and smiled when he saw it. West the Younger never gave up, even when he was hopelessly lagging behind.

  But as Carnivore knew and as Jack now saw, the simple fact of the matter was this: Carnivore was too far in front, his lead was too big.

  No one could get to him in time. Not Wolf, and certainly not Jack. Carnivore was going to lay the Sixth Pillar and save the world from the Dark Star—and in doing so he was going to gain the sixth and final reward: power.

  Jack assessed his situation. He was coming last in this three-way race. There was no way to overtake Wolf on the path, not unless he went directly over the spike forest—

  Jack turned.

  The Halicarnassus—dented and battered and with only its right wing still attached to it—teetered on the summit of the funnel, held in place by its outer starboard-side jet engine, the engine hooked over the brink of the step hill.

  “It would be cheating,” he said aloud, gazing at the plane. “Screw it.” Jack hurried inside the Hali.

  Thirty seconds later, he was in the cockpit, sliding into the pilot’s seat. He popped a safety cover, revealing four switches: switches that in an emergency disengaged each of the plane’s four wing-mounted engines, dropping them from the wings. It was a safety feature on all jet airplanes.

  Jack patted the plane one last time. “Thanks for the memories, baby. I’m sorry to do this to you.”

  Then he flicked the switch that released the Halicarnassus’s outer starboard-side engine.

  On the wing, an explosive bolt detonated sharply, and the enormous cylindrical engine hanging from the wing disengaged from it. It didn’t fall far, since it was already wedged against the summit of the step hill.

  But the Halicarnassus did.

  Released from the summit, it began to slide, slowly at first, then faster, down into the gigantic funnel.

  THE SIGHT of the Halicarnassus sliding down into the funnel of the Sixth Vertex was nothing short of astonishing.

  The battered black plane, now with only one wing, skidded down the spike-riddled slope, its aluminum belly scraping over the tightly spaced spikes, emitting an earsplitting fingernails-on-chalkboard screech.

  It picked up speed as it went.

  Sparks flew as it slid down the slope, getting faster and faster. The shriek of its underbelly scraping over the spikes ripped the air.

  In the trench path, Wolf saw it—saw the big black plane bypassing the convoluted pathway and taking the direct route to the abyss: straight down.

  “Fuck!” he roared.

  The plane was rushing down the slope now. Despite its own considerable size, it was dwarfed by the scale of the inverted pyramid and
the funnel. It looked like a toy compared to the gargantuan ancient place.

  Down on the balcony, Carnivore also turned and his jaw dropped in total surprise.

  For the first time in his professional life, something had cracked his unflappable air. For the first time, someone had done something that Carnivore had not anticipated at all.

  He watched in frozen horror as the big black Halicarnassus rushed down the slope toward him, kicking up sparks.

  Then the 747’s huge nose blasted right through the fortified battlement surrounding the abyss, sending ancient bricks flying every which way, all over the balcony and into the abyss. Carnivore’s men dived for cover. Diane Cassidy huddled behind a stone pedestal on the balcony. Iolanthe and the two children did likewise.

  When the dust settled, the whole front half of the enormous plane protruded through the smashed fortified wall, the big black 747 tilted precariously downward, its nose almost touching the balcony and for a moment, Carnivore thought it would break through.

  But it didn’t.

  With a groan of straining metal, the big plane stopped, hanging poised over the near end of the balcony at an extreme angle, nose down, its waist gripped by the semidestroyed ancient wall.

  It was 5:55 P.M.

  CARNIVORE STOOD exposed on the balcony before the Halicarnassus. The massive black plane looked down on him like an angry god, its shattered cockpit windows looking remarkably like eyes.

  Carnivore searched for a sign of movement in the cockpit, for a glimpse of Jack.

  “Gentlemen!” he ordered his troops. “Guns up! Take out anyone or anything that emerges from that plane!” Then, calling toward the plane: “West the Younger! I imagine it’s you in there! A bold last-ditch move, this is sure, but you cannot win here! You are outnumbered and outgunned!”

  Carnivore didn’t noticed that beside him, Iolanthe had backed away, as had Lily and Alexander.

  Then suddenly something moved in the cockpit and the four Spetsnaz guards opened fire on it, pummeling the down-tilted cockpit with hundreds of rounds.

  After a moment, they stopped firing, their guns smoking.

  There was now no movement from the cockpit.

  Carnivore kept watching it, searching for—

  Jack’s voice came in over a speaker: “Outnumbered, yes. Outgunned, no . . .”

  Then, startlingly, Carnivore saw movement—not from the cockpit, but from over on the Halicarnassus’s sole remaining wing: the 50mm turret-mounted cannon nestled on the shoulder of the wing was revolving . . .

  . . . to point its twin barrels directly at Carnivore.

  “Oh, Lord . . .” Carnivore breathed as he saw Jack seated at the controls of the turret. “You win, West the Younger.”

  Jack opened fire.

  The twin-barreled 50mm cannon exploded to life, unleashing two long tongues of fire and a withering wave of bullets that would have ripped open a fighter jet.

  When it hit a human being, the result was devastating.

  The front half of Carnivore’s body was instantly turned to pulp, dozens of fist-sized 50mm bullet wounds erupted in violent succession all over his torso. He jolted like a marionette, convulsing with each impact, the fusillade of bullets not allowing him to fall until Jack stopped firing and Carnivore at last collapsed to the ground, motionless, hardly even resembling a human being anymore.

  It was the same for the Spetsnaz men beside him. They were blasted away as well, their bodies turned to bloody messes. One man was hurled clear off the balcony by the wave of bullets and he sailed down into the bottomless abyss screaming.

  When it was over, Jack clambered out of the turret and down the wing, leaping onto the balcony with a Desert Eagle pistol in each hand.

  Lily rushed to him, embraced him. He let her do so, but did not hug her back—he kept his guns trained on Iolanthe, Alexander, and Diane Cassidy. His eyes were like steel.

  To Iolanthe: “You’re a strange woman, but you saved my life once so I’m not inclined to kill you now . . . unless you give me a reason to. Now hold the boy and stay out of my way.”

  Iolanthe stepped back, gripping Alexander by the hand, and wisely said nothing. Diane Cassidy did the same.

  Jack picked up the still-wet Sixth Pillar from the ground beside Carnivore’s remains and glanced back at the trench path, to check on Wolf and Mao’s progress—they were still in the trench, but closer now, almost here.

  He spun to look over at the inverted pyramid at the far end of the balcony. They had just enough time.

  He turned to Lily. “You know, kiddo, somehow I always knew this would come down to you and me. We do this together.”

  5:59 P.M.

  Lily grabbed the Twin Tablets and hurried along beside Jack as he strode out across the ornate balcony, high above the dark abyss, toward the upside-down pyramid that was the Sixth Vertex.

  They came to the peak of the pyramid . . . where Jack gave Lily the Pillar.

  Lily frowned, not understanding.

  “You have to read the inscription from one of the tablets when you place the final Pillar,” he said. “I can’t read Thoth. You can.”

  Lily nodded nervously. “What about the reward? Power. What if I become, like, all-powerful?”

  Jack looked at her closely, sincerely. “Kiddo. There’s no other person on this planet I’d trust with such power.”

  Lily smiled a little.

  “Okay . . .”

  The clock struck 6:00, the moment of sunset.

  And so as the Dual Equinox began and Easter Island became singularly exposed to the rays of the two Suns, while Jack guarded her, Lily read from one of the Twin Tablets, speaking aloud a language few had ever heard.

  Then, as she uttered the final line, she inserted the Pillar into its matching slot in the peak of the pyramid.

  It clicked into place, and as had happened at each of the five Vertices before, a blinding beam of white light lanced out from the ancient inverted pyramid, shooting down the abyss, plunging into the bowels of the Earth.

  Although they couldn’t see it, at that moment, a spectacular mechanism within the Earth exploded into action.

  At all five of the other Vertices—from Abu Simbel to England, to Cape Town, Japan, and Diego Garcia—dazzling beams of light also now ignited, lancing down into the center of the Earth from the diamond-tipped peaks of their inverted pyramids.

  The six beams of light converged, striking the Earth’s iron core, and a profound planetary resonance began—a vibrating hum that sent an invisible harmonic force out into space, a force that counterbalanced the incoming violence of the Dark Star, nullifying it just as the Dark Star reached the edge of the solar system, the closest it would come to Earth.

  The violent weather patterns on the surface of the Earth ceased almost immediately—booming volcanoes fell silent, their showering lava flows becoming calm pools of simmering molten liquid once more; cyclones and hurricanes stopped almost in midgust, causing wind-tossed cars and caravans to literally drop to the ground, skidding to shrieking halts; storm-tossed oceans stopped overtopping coastal highways and cliffs, to be replaced immediately by the more benign sounds of regular-sized ocean waves lapping against the shore.

  People across the world—previously huddling indoors or battling valiantly against the elements; from the coasts of America to the jungles of Africa, from the snow plains of Norway to dry plains of India—were left standing amid the destruction, perplexed and confused, as an eerie calm settled over the world and normality returned.

  The deadly zero-point force of the Dark Star had been repelled.

  AT THE Sixth Vertex, the funnel-shaped cavern was still bathed in the glare of the unearthly white light plunging into the abyss. Then without warning the laserlike light withdrew up the shaft and all its mighty energy seemed to retreat back into the Pillar lodged in the pyramid’s peak.

  The Pillar glowed brilliantly, pulsing with pure white light.

  Then, again as before, the Pillar clicked and came free of
the pyramid, and Lily caught it in her hands.

  The pulsing white light emanating from the glasslike Pillar shone on her face, and as he watched her, Jack saw Lily’s eyes glaze over hypnotically—the whites of her eyes going pitch-black—and then they widened as if filled with something . . . some kind of force . . . energy . . . or power . . .

  And for a fleeting instant, Jack had an insight into what this final reward, power, might actually be and he wondered if in giving it to Lily, he had just made the greatest mistake of his life.

  AS THE cavern returned to relative darkness and silence, Wolf and Mao emerged from the trench path. Flanked by their five Chinese special forces escorts, they stepped past the stricken Halicarnassus and out onto the balcony.

  Jack and Lily had moved halfway down the balcony, but were now trapped out on it.

  Wolf saw the Pillar in Lily’s hands, saw the deadly black stare in her eyes.

  “Oh no, no . . .” he gasped.

  Foolishly, his Chinese special forces guards raised their guns at Jack and Lily.

  Lily’s black eyes flashed with anger, glaring at them—

  —and in that instant, all five of the Chinese soldiers clutched their throats in agony, unable to breathe. They collapsed to their knees, choking, before they all dropped to the ground, dead.

  Wolf was stunned. Mao was, too.

  Beside Lily, Jack was astonished.

  That was the reward “power,” he realized. The power to enact your thoughts, to impose your will on others absolutely and without restraint. The ultimate power.

  Jack looked at Lily, at her angry unearthly stare.

  She was glaring at Diane Cassidy, still cowering behind a pedestal: “You. You betrayed us, informed our enemy of everything we were doing. I think you should die.”

  Instantly, Diane fell to her knees. Her eyes were locked on Lily’s as she began to choke, but then blood started to flow from her bulging eyes, an instant before both eyes burst out of her head in twin grisly sprays and she flopped to the ground, dead.