chances of hitting anyone at this range were minimal. Not to mention he’d give away his position.
Since the first two options sucked, he chose the third. Petrova would make a perfect hostage. He could exchange her for Tyler. Or at least buy enough time for him to figure out the next move and keep Tyler alive and free of bullet holes. If Grant could sneak up on Petrova from behind, he could grab and disarm her.
Grant crabbed up the ramp to the third level as fast as he could. In his earpiece, he heard Garrett say, “You now have 60 seconds left.” He was running out of time.
He peeked over the edge of the third level walkway. There was Petrova, just 40 feet in front of him. She was almost to the room he’d seen Dilara go into. If Petrova saw her first, she was dead. These people weren’t looking for hostages.
He got to his feet and crept toward Petrova, ready to take her in a headlock.
“You’ve thought of everything,” Locke said. “Even those night vision goggles. Generation-Three?”
“The newest we could get on short notice,” Garrett said. “Amazing devices. All we need is the light coming through that crevice to see this entire cavern as visible as if it were in daylight.”
“You’ve thought of everything. Except one. What if the amulet isn’t really in my pocket? What if I’ve hidden it somewhere in the Ark?”
“You didn’t have time. And if one of your colleagues has it, they will realize that my offer includes bringing me the amulet.”
“But if they’ve hidden it, it could take you a long time to find it. Noah’s Ark is a big place.”
“You’re bluffing.”
“Just trying to get you to think about all the angles.”
Garrett kept his pistol trained on Locke and looked at his watch. “We still have thirty seconds left. All right. We’ll make sure.” Garrett spoke to Brett. “Search him, starting with his left front pocket.”
As Locke had hoped, Garrett took the bait. And as he knew, Garrett wouldn’t do the dirty work himself. He’d leave that to his minion.
Brett approached Locke. Locke had noticed the guard carrying the flashlight in his left hand, the pistol in his right. To search Locke’s pocket, he’d need to holster his pistol.
Brett removed the Amulet of Shem, and when he tossed it to Garrett, Locke seized his chance. As Garrett caught the amulet, Locke whipped his hands down and grabbed Brett’s vest. It wasn’t until Locke moved that Garrett realized Brett was the only one with a light. Too late, Garrett stuffed the amulet in his pocket and reached for his own flashlight.
The guard might have expected a blow, some kind of chop or punch, but he wouldn’t have considered the possibility that Locke would simply grab his vest and push him backward. Brett’s flashlight clattered to the floor, leaving them unlit. Brett sent body blows into Locke’s midsection, but Locke wouldn’t let go and continued to drive Brett backward.
By this time, Garrett had recovered and started shooting. In the darkness, Locke felt bullets zinging past his head. One hit the side of his thigh, causing him to stagger, but with the adrenaline dulling the pain, he couldn’t tell how bad it was. One thing he was sure of, his only chance was to keep hold of Brett until he could get him to the crevice.
Locke kept churning his legs, pushing Brett, who was off-balance, but preventing him from falling, which would be just as deadly. The crevice was his target. Just a few more feet.
The bullets kept coming, and one went into Brett’s shoulder, splashing Locke with blood. It wasn’t a mortal wound, but it was enough to slacken Brett’s resistance. In another two steps, Locke gave a final shove, and Brett tumbled into the crevice, the bag of tricks beside him.
Locke scrambled away from the opening. He only had two more seconds because as he let go of Brett, he’d grabbed the pin from one of the grenades on Brett’s vest.
Locke rolled ten more feet and covered his head. The shock of the explosion pummeled him. The grenade went off before Brett had a chance to get up, and the mining explosives were detonated by the grenade. A thunderous clap echoed through the cavern, and when it was over, Locke heard the walls of the crevice collapsing. It was completely sealed.
It was exactly what he was hoping for. Not only was that way out closed, but light was no longer coming from it. Without a light source, caves aren’t just dark, they’re pitch black, like swimming in a barrel of ink. The type of night vision goggles that Garrett wore work well in the night sky, even without a moon, because although it’s dark outside, the stars still provide some light. In a cave, with no external light source, the night vision goggles have absolutely no light to amplify. They would be useless. Garrett, Cutter, and Petrova no longer had the advantage. They would have to use flashlights.
The odds were even.
SIXTY-EIGHT
Cutter had been hoping that he’d find Grant Westfield crouched in the corner of a room so he could shoot him like a dog, but no such luck. He got his break when he looked up to check on Petrova’s progress. They were in comm silence to mask their positions. On a ramp above him, he saw a huge figure not 40 feet behind her get up and move towards her. That slab of meat could only be Westfield. Cutter finally had him in his sights, but the angle wasn’t good. He wanted to make sure he got that bastard dead center.
Westfield didn’t see him. Just like in the Army, Westfield was too focused on his target, not paying attention to his flank. Now he’d pay for it.
Cutter found a ramp and tiptoed up. He’d ditched his sniper rifle in favor of the MP-5 submachine gun, which was a better close-in weapon.
Westfield was close to Petrova, his weapon at his side. He was only 25 feet above Cutter, that big chest centered in his sights. There was no way Cutter would miss. He couldn’t resist seeing the expression on Westfield’s face when he realized he was about to be shot by Cutter, so he called out.
“It’s Chainsaw,” he taunted.
Westfield’s head turned, and even with the night vision goggles, Cutter could see the flash of recognition.
A huge explosion from Garrett’s direction blasted like a cannonade through the cavern. At the same time, the viewfinder on his goggles went out. Nothing. Black.
Cutter fired, but he knew it was too late. He heard the bullets chew into wood, but no screams of pain.
He had missed. And now he was blind.
Dilara hated the idea of hiding, and the explosion, followed by a splat of bullets nearby, spurred her to action. She couldn’t stay there, waiting to be hunted down. She had to do something. She drew her pistol, although she didn’t know what she could do with it without a flashlight.
Dilara had taken refuge in the weapons-filled room she had found earlier. She’d been awed by the knives, swords, and spears that lined the room. She recalled that an array of bows leaned against a wall, and next to it was an urn painted with a purple symbol that looked like a cloaked figure praying. The urn held a bolt of arrows, points down. The symbol had looked familiar to her, but she didn’t know why.
None of the ancient weapons seemed better than the pistol, so she left them alone. The 3-D mapping system, as Locke had told her, was limited by the viewpoint of the RCV, so it hadn’t been able to see around the urns and other objects in the room. With her free hand, she felt her way to the end of the room, and peeked around, hoping there would be some light to guide herself by.
The blackness was total, then a beacon lit. At least, it seemed like a beacon to her, but it was just Grant’s helmet light. It was sliding on the floor out of a room 15 feet in front of her.
That’s when she saw the figure of Svetlana Petrova close enough to touch. Petrova fired at the helmet and backed up at the same time, right into Dilara’s gun hand. Dilara was so unprepared, the pistol was knocked from her grip. Her hands free, Dilara did the only thing she could think of. She tackled Petrova and wrestled her to the ground.
