The Sacred Vault

followed suit. ‘It takes a little getting used to, but I have mastered the controls. A shame this will be its last flight. It is fun.’ He lowered his hand. After a moment, the horizon tipped back. ‘As you see, when I am not controlling it directly it follows its default programming, which currently is to fly a standby orbit. Once I fly it past a certain point, though, it has another program.’

‘A kamikaze run,’ guessed Eddie.

‘Correct. Even if I lose communication, it will still carry out its mission. But for maximum effect, precise timing will be needed.’ He indicated the news feed, which showed a floodlit stage. As yet, the only people on it were technicians making final preparations. ‘I do not know exactly when the G20 leaders will assemble for their photocall. As soon as they start to appear, I will begin. The computers can guide the plane to the right spot, but only I can choose the most devastating moment.’

‘You finally admit there are things humans can do better than computers, and that’s your example?’ said Nina.

‘There is an irony to it. But after the explosion, everyone in the world will seek answers - and Qexia will provide them.’

Her voice filled with scorn. ‘The wrong answers.’

‘Qexia does not lie,’ Khoil replied, displeased at the implied insult. ‘It simply weights the results according to user expectations. In India, it will seem that Pakistani militants carried out the attack. In Pakistan, India will be seen as falsely accusing an Islamic power that has been pointedly excluded from the G20.’

‘Anger will rise,’ continued Vanita. ‘People in both countries will demand action - they will demand blood! War will start between India and Pakistan, and it will escalate into a nuclear conflict. Once that happens, the violence will spread. Country against country, East against West, Hindu against Muslim, Muslim against Christian. The world will burn.’ Her face twisted with a terrible smile of satisfaction.

‘Not everybody gets their information from Qexia,’ Nina pointed out. ‘And not everybody’s driven by rage and vengeance, either - however corrupt and decadent you think they’ve become. You won’t start World War Three from just one event, even something this big.’

‘We do not need to,’ said Khoil. ‘A global nuclear war is only a forty-two per cent probability . . . but there is a ninety-nine per cent probability that the networks of finance and trade vital to modern civilisation will collapse. The effect will be the same.’ He took position at the virtual controls. ‘You are a historian, Dr Wilde. But this is the end of history. The start of a new age. Our new age. Enlightened . . . purified. A new Satya Yuga.’

On the news feed, the technicians cleared the stage. The camera panned across to a doorway, from which officials emerged. Camera flashes lit up the area like strobes.

‘They’re coming out,’ said Vanita excitedly, grabbing her husband’s arm.

He lifted her hand away. ‘Vanita, my beloved, I need you to clear the platform so I can fly the vimana. It would be unfortunate if you nudged me and made it crash short of the target.’ She was annoyed by his undercurrent of sarcasm, but descended the steps to the circular walkway, where she stood beside Tandon.

Khoil raised both hands, paused for a moment like a conductor preparing to cue an orchestra . . . then clenched them as if gripping invisible controls. The view from the cameras tilted sharply as the stealth plane banked. The artificial horizon matched the move, a green line indicating the course to the presidential residence swinging into sight.

Text also appeared at the bottom of the screens. TIME TO TARGET: 04:02. The number counted down. 04:01, 04:00, 03:59 . . .

34

Nina stared at the screens in horror as the Indian president and prime minister made their way to the stage. ‘If you do this, millions of people will die - and a lot of them will be in your own country!’

‘They will be reborn in the next cycle,’ Khoil said, eyes fixed on the view from the aircraft. ‘And they will be born into a better world.’

She had no counter to that. Khoil was a man set in his beliefs, and there were no words she could use to change his mind. Only action would make a difference now. ‘We’ve got to stop him,’ she whispered to Eddie.

‘Yeah, I got that.’ If he could reach the upper platform, he could disrupt the plane’s flight by punching out Khoil and taking over the virtual controls, crashing it somewhere safe - or at least forcing it to return to its failsafe orbit until the world leaders were back indoors.

Getting on to the platform, though, was the problem. There were three men with guns there to stop him.

Unless he could make it two men . . .

‘You’re Bosnian, right?’ he asked Zec in an almost conversational tone, to the mercenary’s surprise. ‘The country’s pretty much half and half Christians and Muslims, isn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ said Zec, suspicious. ‘Why?’

‘Well, that part of the world’s had some . . . well, problems between different ethnic groups. It might have calmed down now, but this’ll start it right back up again.’ He indicated the Khoils, both fixated on the big screens. ‘Your bosses just said that’s what they were after.’

‘That is not my concern,’ Zec said, but the idea, having taken root, was clearly troubling him.

‘It’ll be your wife and son’s concern, though. You said they live in Sarajevo. That’s not exactly high on the list of cities people associate with peace and harmony and good times.’ Eddie’s expression hardened. ‘They’re going to die. And you’ll have helped it happen.’

Vanita glared angrily at them. ‘Enough! Zec, go back to security.’ She addressed the guard, jabbing a red- nailed finger at Nina and Eddie. ‘You. Shoot these two.’

The guard pushed past Zec, raising his gun - but Tandon intervened. ‘Please, let me.’ He smiled coldly. ‘I have been looking forward to this.’

‘All right,’ said Vanita. ‘But quickly.’

Eddie gave Zec a look. ‘Last chance for your son to be proud of you.’

Tandon advanced, pocketing his gun . . . and raised his hands to deliver a lethal martial arts strike. ‘It will be quick,’ he assured Vanita, ‘but not painless.’

‘Good,’ she said. ‘Do it.’ The countdown on the screen reached three minutes.

Tandon stepped closer. Nina gripped Eddie’s hand—

A spray of blood and brain matter splattered across the dome as Zec shot the guard in the back of the head.

Eddie pushed Nina down, crouching to give Zec a clear shot at Tandon as the dead guard fell. His MP5K clattered to the floor ten feet below, skidding away to end up near the spiral staircase.

Zec fired again - and Tandon dodged, twisting aside. The bullet missed him by barely a centimetre. Zec tracked him, releasing another shot as the Indian dived under the railing, grabbing the edge of the walkway as he fell and flipping himself underneath it. Eddie heard soft clanks from below; Tandon was hanging from the catwalk’s underside, effortlessly swinging parkour-style along its supporting scaffold. Zec backed up, gun darting from side to side in expectation of an attack.

Eddie ran past Nina. Vanita hurriedly retreated, but he ignored her, instead pounding up the curved stairs to the upper platform. ‘Ay up,’ he said to Khoil. The billionaire’s plump face filled with fear. ‘Can I play?’

Nina jumped up, raising her fists as she charged at Vanita. While no expert at unarmed combat, she had still received enough training from her husband to throw a good punch - and this one would be particularly satisfying. Vanita turned and ran, Nina pursuing her round the walkway.

Tandon’s head briefly popped up into Zec’s view. He fired, but the Indian had already ducked out of sight with snake-like speed. The Bosnian shifted his aim, shooting at the floor. Four bullets punched holes through the metal plating with shrill spangs - but Tandon was too fast. A clank of something falling as he swept hand over hand along the scaffold, then in an acrobatic, almost gravity-defying move, he swung back up feet-first under the railing - and drove a crunching kick into Zec’s stomach. The mercenary flew backwards, crashing against the outer railing—

It gave way. Zec tumbled over the edge. His neck cracked horribly as he landed head-first, flopping limply to the floor. The broken length of railing clanged down beside him.