by A D Davies
“But you know!” Valerio hunched over, pleading. When he returned to full height he seemed bigger, less wasted. Even his skin looked healthier. “I am now free of disease, of all ailments. I feel healthier than when I was twenty-one. I am a god, Jules. Because of you, because of your genes and whatever quantum business goes on with your consciousness. It’s wild, isn’t it? But you don’t accept it. You don’t want to head out into the world, take your prizes. You know things no one else does.”
Jules held up both hands, the bangles on his wrists. He lowered them. “Lemme tell you what I know. I know my skin reacts with these stones. I know now that we had civilization before the accepted record, and these folks, they used the special properties in the rocks to build great things. Like this place. To answer Horse’s question about how they got all this stuff from the port up through the hills, must’ve been connected to magnetism, to properties in these stones.” Jules shook the bangles. “Like a monorail, right?”
“My theory exactly,” Valerio said.
“But despite their genius, they got wiped out by war or environment—the Toba eruption was round here wasn’t it?”
“Toby, boss?” Horse asked.
“Toba was a supervolcano,” Valerio answered with a swat of his hand, implying it was no big deal. “Seventy-five thousand years ago. Wiped out the human race to maybe ten thousand souls. The bangles are much younger.”
“I know that,” Jules said. “Maybe we’ll never know exactly what made them abandon this place. Maybe it was the fire we saw.”
What fire? Bridget thought. They can’t mean the one raging right now, could they? No, don’t be stupid. Something else...
“We’ll never know,” Valerio said.
“Damn, that’s what I figured.” Jules was pacing again. “See, one of the problems we got as humans is we don’t know what we don’t know. Meaning we ain’t always sure what questions to ask. Me, I just figured I wanted my mom’s bracelet home with me, a memory to keep hold of. Some shrink told me once I was trying to resurrect her through an inanimate object and urged me to give it up. But you... clever guy... you pushed my buttons good. Got me asking why instead a’ where. Not ‘Where is it?’ and ‘How can I get it back?’ but ‘Why did she hold on to it?’ and ‘Why did she die to protect it?’ So I’m asking myself now, ‘Why is Valerio here?’ and ‘Why is he letting me go?’ Answer is pretty obvious. And you just confirmed it for me now.”
Bridget couldn’t see Valerio’s expression, but his body held stock-still.
“We saw those paintings, the carvings, all predicting floods and disasters. Or maybe they’re recording history as well. There were two sides to that ‘forecaster’ dude.”
Forecaster dude?
Bridget really needed Jules to survive this. She needed Valerio gone so they could defuse and explore those explosive-laden tunnels. A historical record from prehistory. She literally tingled all over.
“Two sides.” Jules held one forefinger inches from each side of Valerio’s head. He wiggled the first. “One with fires, violence, that kinda thing.” He wiggled the other. “The second side was the flood downing a city.”
It sounded magnificent. She checked Harpal was still filming.
“So I started asking? the question again. Why?” Jules dropped his hands back and stepped away from Valerio. “I know for certain you didn’t set up a whole town in Ladoh and install a supercomputer just to decode whatever ancient languages you pulled outa the ground for your hobby. You didn’t risk robbing the Queen of England and set up that ambush in Rome for a book that might lead you to some tomb. You didn’t kill dozens a’ people in Ulaanbaatar, then recruit all this muscle and set the place to explode behind us... yeah, I figured out the mercs planted bombs... just to heal yourself and let me go on my way.”
Bridget whispered to Dan, “What’s he talking about?”
“What Toby was scared of,” Dan answered, holding his pose.
“Maybe you getting better is a bonus,” Jules continued, “might even’ve started out looking for this spring or pool, whatever it is. But you can’t get away with the scale of destruction and murder you left behind. No amount a’ money can make that go away. To make all this worth it, there’s more at stake.”
“He understands,” Toby said over comms, now breaking up every five or six words. “A little late, but he finally understands.”
“Understands what?” Charlie asked.
“The sort of man Valerio Conchin truly is.”
Jules lingered near one of the Ravis before wandering on in his circle. “Those pictograms, the hieroglyphs, and that... writing-writing... it all predates Hebrew, predates Sanskrit. And you knew enough to follow the writing. You just needed the woman from Rome to figure out the key, the basics, and you used that to program the computer, to lead you here. But not to heal.”
The newly invigorated Valerio nodded and laughed. “I really do like you, Jules. I mean, I’ve killed people I like before, but if you don’t stop talking and start heading out, I’ll figure myself a way to live with the guilt.”
“Toby,” Dan said, “evacuate the village.”
“No choice now,” Charlie agreed.
Toby’s voice cracked again, this time nothing to do with a poor signal. “That might be wise.”
Harpal held his phone steady, twisting to join the discussion. “Why?”
“I ain’t leaving,” Jules said. “Just come clean. Just do what you gotta do. What you planned to do all along.”
Valerio wagged his finger as if he should be making a tut-tut noise, but the acoustics didn’t carry. What he said next did, though: “You should have taken the bracelet and run.”
“Then I’d be dead.”
“Yeah, you got me. Horse. It’s time.”
Horse took cigarette pack–size box from his pocket and held it aloft before pressing his thumb to it.
An explosion boomed through the lower part of the structure. The ground shook. Another explosion, a third, fourth.
“He’s blowing the place,” Dan said.
“But his men—” Bridget started, but then a final ear-splitting bang plumed clouds of smoke and dust out of the ground-level entrance, shaking the balcony and staircase.
She couldn’t help it. Before she knew it, before she could consciously stop herself, the scream was out there. Which meant, of course, there was no hiding anymore.
The three men on other aeries aimed guns their way, as did Horse and the two on Jules’s level.
“Oh!” Valerio shouted happily. “Now it really is a party!”
Chapter Fifty-Two
Jules dropkicked Horse in the side, whipping the gun out of his hands as the big man tumbled down the stairs.
He then turned his attention to the Ravi brothers, the main threat right now, and tossed the machine gun toward the most prepared. This stunned the other momentarily, Jules’s odd choice giving him pause. By the time the gunman refocused, Jules was upon him.
A flat hand to the man’s chest sent him off-balance, a tug of the gun, sweep of the feet, and Jules used the momentum to throw him into his brother. Then it was a case of a solid heel to the brother’s head, knocking him out, pinning the first and smashing that guy’s face into the floor.
Bloody.
Bruised.
Unconscious.
Times two.
No lasting harm.
It all took less than five seconds. By the end of those five seconds, Valerio was screaming, “Kill them all!”
Jules kicked all three automatic weapons into the stagnant pool, aware that sidearms were still in play. Also in play, though, were the sentries following orders to take out the interlopers. Their guns rattled, echoing through the cavern.
As he faced Valerio, Jules couldn’t help wondering how the men felt about the recent explosion. Was that the plan? Did the men expect to sacrifice themselves to protect their paymaster?
Horse raced back up the stairs, past Valerio, charging at Jules with a fury he’d
not displayed to date. He’d been so calm, so measured, even when plainly angry. This was a new side to the man.
A personal grudge?
Let’s find out.
Jules ducked the first blow and sidestepped, dropped into a low stance, and kicked at his assailant’s leg. Horse dodged and weaved. Their styles competed for dominance. Jules slapped Horse aside several times, the larger man’s weight giving Jules an advantage, easily maneuvering him via the momentum from his attacks. But Horse was still fast and well balanced, striking precise, hard blows, each missing for now, but Jules’s gut still ached from the last time Horse made contact.
With LORI pinned, there wasn’t much chance of help.
Outside the cave, Jules had been showing off, a teenager riling up an old man. Not anymore. This was the real thing, and although Horse would have made training a priority at one point, for the past six years, Jules had lived it. A shorter time on the planet, but utterly dedicated, consumed by the need to be better, stronger... prepared for anything.
So Horse couldn’t cope with the switch in strategy.
Jules moved in close, fast and sudden, utilizing Krav Maga now rather than aikido, raw power exploding through his elbow, up into Horse’s chin. A crack sounded from inside the big man’s mouth. Jules followed up with a knee to the groin, the side of an arm to the head, an open hand to Horse’s battered jaw.
Jules’s direct approach slammed him this way and that until—finally—Jules ended this bout with a side kick to the man’s already damaged head.
Down. Out for the count.
Valerio was running down the stairs.
The exchange of gunfire continued—Dan with the automatic weapon, Harpal with a handgun. They weren’t in a bad position, but they made no progress either. And they were on a clock.
“We can’t hang around,” Dan said. “Those explosions gave this old place a real beating.”
“It’s already hurt,” Charlie added. “It’s on a slight angle. Subsidence, earthquake, I don’t know.”
“Then this’ll be a problem.” Harpal pointed out one of the sentries advancing down his flight of stairs, mounting an RPG launcher on one shoulder.
“Oh, not in here,” Dan said. “As soon as he fires, you move. Ready?”
Bridget hit him on the chest. “Of course I’m not ready!”
“Tough. Cause here it comes.”
The militiaman released the rocket-propelled grenade, its contrail spewing white behind, drilling hard through the air.
Harpal and Charlie reacted quickly. Dan pulled Bridget with them. Harpal literally dived for the stairs, rolling, while Charlie chose to slide on her ass. The two seconds the grenade spent streaking across the cavern allowed them to duck and cover on the walls to the side. Landing a touch high, it blew the doors apart and sprayed rock and twisted metal.
It also gave the other bad guys an opening to advance on their position, leaving one now out in the open—reloading his RPG—while the others snaked through the “streets” below.
“Okay,” Dan announced as Bridget pulled away from him. “I’ll hold ’em. It’s evac time.”
Dan laid down a burst of three, wounding the man on the steps. The attacker’s stomach, hip, and leg streamed blood, agony visible on his face from several hundred yards as he dropped the launcher.
“Not a chance.” Harpal aimed his gun at a runner. Fired. Missed. “The girls can go.”
“No,” Charlie said. “Someone needs to prime the helicopter. That’s you or Dan. Which means it’s you.”
“But—”
“Plus, why do you even have the gun? I’m a better shot.” Charlie snatched the weapon.
“You don’t do fieldwork.”
“Needs must.” Charlie fired at another runner, pinning him back. She held out her left hand, the Russian Makarov pistol weighing down her right. “Come on, you know it’s the right call.”
“She’s ex-army, Harpal,” Dan said. “She can shoot as well as you.”
“Better,” Charlie emphasized.
Harpal relinquished the two spare mags taken from the man Dan killed up on the balcony and beckoned to Bridget. “Okay, fine. Come on, Bridget. We’ll meet them up top.”
Bridget shook her head rapidly. “I can’t make that jump to the library.”
“It’s less than six feet.”
“Standing start,” Bridget said. “You can’t throw me, so I’ll need a run up. That means I need someone who can open the door.”
“She’s right too,” Dan said.
Harpal swallowed hard, glancing slowly at each of them. “Just once, I’d like to be the one who’s right.”
“Plenty of time for that,” came Toby’s voice. “My plea with you, Harpal, is to do as Dan says.”
Harpal nodded, his lips tight. “See you topside.” He ran upward, two steps at a time.
Dan and Charlie both lay on their stomachs, using the rise as cover. They fired single shots, evenly spaced, protecting Harpal from the militiamen, each of whom tried to plug him. But they knew better.
“Bridget, wait here.” Dan checked on her: back against the wall leading up to the library entrance, currently shielded from the men trying to flank them. “We’ll bring Jules back.”
She held up a fist and pumped it. Dan assumed that meant she was on board.
“Charlie, we’re gonna alternate,” he said. “I’ll move to draw their fire, while you get a better angle. Clear?”
Charlie slapped in a fresh magazine. “Like riding a bike.”
Then Bridget yelled at the top of her voice, “Jules!”
The cry came over the sound of gunfire, Bridget’s voice, calling his name.
Jules remained atop the pavilion, assessing Valerio’s route. Definitely heading for the main fire pit.
“Jules, we have a way out!” Bridget shouted.
Choice time: escape the way Bridget urged, or pursue Valerio.
They’re here for me.
But they didn’t know what Jules knew. They didn’t know Valerio had far bigger ambitions than simply healing himself.
So Jules did what he did best: he ran the opposite direction from Bridget, although not straight toward Valerio; with his newfound physical prowess, the billionaire achieved too big of a head start.
Jules accelerated on a downward angle. Once at the right level, he wound up enough speed along the flat step, calculated the added weight from the two bangles, and launched himself toward a sloping roof atop a houselike building.
Up and over, through the air, that familiar sensation of controlled falling rushed through him.
He landed on the tiles. But whatever passed for cement during its construction had long rotted away, and the tiles themselves were brittle, made from a compound of mud and wood. Just as he felt the roof give way, Jules spread his weight and rolled to the edge where the structure was stronger. He ran up to the peak, jumped left, swung around the point of one of the shorter needle-type erections, and propelled himself onto the back of an elephant. Its length was sufficient to gather the speed to jump to another building, this one a flat-roofed Greek-type configuration.
Then to an Egyptian man with a wolf head.
Over a line of fire, its heat scorching his legs.
Then a simple sandstone cube, perfectly proportioned as far as Jules could tell.
All in a straight line, chasing Valerio as the crow flies, gaining ground.
Approaching the clear target point—a recess almost hidden by the end of the main fire pit—Jules found himself climbing. The structures, the statues, the monoliths, all increasing in size the nearer he got. It wouldn’t normally be a problem, but he was tiring now. The exertion of the trek up here, the lack of sleep, the crappy food.
He didn’t stop, though. Plowing onward, overtaking the boss man as he swung through a black, horse-headed warrior’s mouth and up again, over a horned beast like nothing he’d seen outside of depictions of Satan, on which Jules rested to take stock of his progress.
A guns
hot sounded, blowing a chunk of horn off the blueish devil-like sculpture, a type of stone Jules couldn’t name. It changed color depending on his angle, from translucent with a blue tint to an aquamarine hue.
Jules dangled over the other side, taking cover behind its head, and found himself directly above the main fire, the pool fifty feet below him feeding the rest of the cavern.
Yellow and blue flame raged, its heat shimmering in the air. Still nowhere near the temperature it would have been had the fluid been gas or oil or even alcohol. This was something else. Something that burned slowly, that kept its heat close to the surface.
And it didn’t help him one bit right now.
Another gunshot. Closer.
Struggling to find a view, he shifted to the left.
Twenty feet down, another of those solid cubes waited, the biggest so far, adjacent to the fire.
Clambering on top of it, Horse seemed to have recovered.
Reaching the library, Harpal left the camping light on the short side of the chasm to aid anyone else fleeing this way, activated his headlamp, and leaped the gap as Dan had done in reverse; a tough feat given a mere two feet of purchase on the door side of the chasm. But it was doable and far easier than landing on the short ledge. Harpal managed to hit the other side and roll, and when he shone his headlamp around, its narrow beam captured a new cloud of dust and a blocked path.
Outside the crypt, the path Dan had seen sloped down into the structure. It was logical that one or more of the bombs may have gone off beneath this floor.
One of the seemingly solid bookcases, having towered three people high, had now toppled into the next, leaving a triangular tunnel through which to pass, the impact having smashed off one of the sides.
“Guys,” Harpal said, hoping they were still listening. “The explosions must have affected the library. It’s pretty much upside down.”