An instant later, a burst of water gushed out of the wall-hole, immediately followed by the jaws of a massive crocodile that slammed at tremendous speed
The croc roared angrily but its jaws were caught against the X-bar, unable to get past. The rush of water sprayed all around Fuzzy, but didn't knock him over.
'Trap One! Clear!' he called.
The others were already there with him, moving fast, and as Fuzzy kept watch over the writhing croc trapped in the wall-hole, they danced safely by.
Now Big Ears went ahead, racing forwards to disable the next trap, while the rest of them followed, step- jumping past Fuzzy, heading for the ladder at the base of the giant rockface.
The Europeans could only watch in helpless amazement as the Seven raced along the opposite wall to the base of the rockface.
Alone among them, Francisco del Piero eyed West—eyed him with an ice-cold gaze—watched him running with Lily at his side, gripping her hand.
'Well, well, well,' del Piero said. 'Who have you got there, Captain West . . .?'
The Seven hit the base of the rockface.
The building-sized wall towered above them, black as the night.
Big Ears had already done his work, disabling two hand-chopping traps halfway up the rock-cut ladder.
Now Princess Zoe leapfrogged ahead. She moved with great athleticism, easily the match of the men. About 30, she had
shoulder-length blonde hair, freckles, and the luminous blue eyes that only Irish girls possess.
Onto the First Level she flew, raising two aerosol cans as she did so, filling two wall-holes with a dense expanding foam. Whatever evils had been in those wall-holes were caught by the foam and neutralised.
No sooner had she done this than she was leapfrogged by the seventh member of the group, the tall, thin trooper named Stretch. Once known as Archer, he had a long, sanguine, bony face. He hailed from the deadly Israeli sniper unit, the Sayaret Matkal.
Stretch arrived at the right-side arm of the Scar, where he triggered a huge trap from a safe distance: a bronze cage that fell out of a dark recess in the Scar and clattered down to the lake.
Had any of the team been walking on the foot-wide mini-ledge in front of the recess, the cage would have caught them and taken them down to the lake, to be either eaten by the crocs or drowned under the weight of the cage itself.
Now West and Lily took the lead, crossing the mini-ledge across the Scar, stepping out onto the centre section of the First Level.
Here they found the trigger stone for the Master Snare at the base of the wall-ladder leading up to Level 2. West made to step on it—
'Captain West!'
West froze in mid-stride, turned.
Del Piero and his troops were staring up at him from the base of their half-finished crane, holding their useless guns stupidly in their hands.
'Now, Captain West, please think about this before you do it!' del Piero called. 'Is it
and the piece of the Capstone it contains. Either way, Captain, we get the Piece.'
West's eyes narrowed.
Still he didn't speak.
Del Piero tried Wizard. 'Max. Max. My old colleague, my old friend. Please. Reason with your rash young protege.'
Wizard just shook his head. 'You and I chose different paths a long time ago, Francisco. You do it your way. We'll do it ours. Jack. Hit the trigger.'
West just stared evenly down at del Piero.
'With pleasure,' he said.
And with that he
The spectacle of Imhotep's Master Snare going off was sensational.
Blasting streams of black crude oil shot out from the hundreds of holes that dotted the cavern: holes in the rockface and its sidewalls.
Dozens of oil waterfalls flowed down the rockface, cascading over its four levels. Black fluid flooded out from the sidewalls, falling a clear 200 feet down them into the croc lake.
The crocs went nuts, scrambling over each other to get away from it—disappearing into some little holes in the walls or massing on the far side of the lake.
In some places on the great tiered rockface, oil came
Worst of all, a
And then the clicking started.
The clicking of many stone-striking mechanisms mounted above the wall-holes.
Striking mechanisms made of flint.
Striking mechanisms that were designed to create sparks and . . .
Just then, a spark from one of the flints high up on the left side-wall touched the crude oil flowing out from the wall-hole an inch beneath it.
The result was stunning.
The superthin waterfall of oil became a superthin waterfall of
The lake blazed with flames.
The entire cavern was illuminated bright yellow.
The crocs screamed, clawing over each other to get to safety.
Then more oilfalls caught alight—some on the sidewalls, others on the rockface, and finally, the great sludge waterfall coming down the Scar—until the entire Great Cavern looked like Hell itself, lit by a multitude of blazing waterfalls.
Thick black smoke billowed everywhere—smoke which had no escape.
This was Imhotep's final masterstroke.
If the fire and the traps didn't kill you, smoke inhalation would, especially in the highly prized upper regions of the cavern.
'Fools!' del Piero raged. Then to his men: 'What are you standing there for! Finish the crane! You have until they get back to the Second Level to do so!'
West's team was now moving faster than ever, leapfrogging each other beautifully amid the subterranean inferno.
Up the rockface they went, first to the left along the Second Level, crossing the left arm of the Scar before the thick fire-waterfall got there, dodging wall-holes, jumping gaps in the ledge, nullifying the traps inside the arched forts that straddled the narrow walkway.
Droplets of fire were now raining down all around them—spray
from the oilfalls—but the fiery orange drops just hit their firemen's helmets and rolled off their backs.
Then suddenly West's team ran past the unfinished arm of the Europeans' crane and, for the first time that day, they were in front.
In the lead in this race.
Up the wall-ladder at the end of Level 2, on to Level 3, where they ran to the right, avoiding some chute traps
