TWENTY-SIX
Chase sprinted around the wall circling the mausoleum, using it as cover-however temporary. It would take only seconds for Frost’s men to flank it and cut him down.
Running footsteps sounded behind him. Starkman, two more of his men following farther back.
The light from the flashlight clipped to his chest danced crazily over the temple wall. The entrance should be dead ahead…
Dull impacts of metal on metal as bullets struck the golden wall. Someone screamed, and one of the sets of sprinting footsteps became thumps as a body tumbled to the ground.
He didn’t look back. The entrance was ahead, a square of absolute darkness in the wall. Starkman was almost alongside him. The bastard always had been a good runner-
Frost’s voice carried over the noise of the guns, yelling orders. “Kill them!
Another frantic chatter of MP-7 fire, followed by screams.
The black square expanded, jittering torchlight revealing the perspective lines of the tunnel inside the temple.
A bullet whipped past so close that he felt its heat, but he was in!
“Those
“Like you wouldn’t have done the same to them!” Chase spat back. The first corner was just ahead-
Orange light lit the tunnel, a lethal strobing as their pursuers reached the entrance and fired wildly into it. The trailing member of Starkman’s team took the full force of the bullets, his shadow thrashing wildly on the wall in front of Chase.
Chase dived around it, Starkman following a step behind as more bullets smacked against the wall. Splinters of stone flew in all directions. Shielding his eyes from the stinging debris, Chase pulled a hand grenade from his webbing and yanked out the pin, the metal spoon pinging free.
He silently counted to three, then tossed the grenade around the corner at the approaching footsteps.
Shrapnel filled the air like a swarm of enraged bees as Chase threw himself flat on the ground, dragging Starkman with him. The thunder of the explosion died away. The running footsteps had ceased.
Starkman sat up, recovering his MP-7. “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Chase growled. “I haven’t decided if I’m going to let you live.”
“I’ve got the gun,” Starkman pointed out.
“And
“The bomb’s set!” said Schenk. “I disabled the controls-there’s no way to stop it!”
“If you want to stay alive, start running!” Frost yelled to Philby as he ran for the cavern entrance. With a gasp of fright, Philby raced after him.
Down the tunnel, around the corners… and into the chamber containing the Challenge of Strength. The wooden handles above the stone bench had long since crumbled to dust, but…
“Shit,” snapped Chase, seeing that the barbed vertical bars, though gnarled with corrosion, still obstructed the passageway just as they had in Brazil. “I thought they’d have rusted away by now!”
“What are they?” asked Starkman.
“A pain in the arse!” He took his last grenade and moved to the wall by the narrow passage. “Hang on!”
The grenade clacked along the stone floor, exploding halfway down the passage. The blast ripped the corroded metal bars to pieces and filled the air with a blizzard of scabbed metal flakes.
Chase looked along the passage. Only a few of the bars were still intact. “Okay! Follow me down there, on three, as fast as you can!”
“What happens if I don’t?”
“You go splat! One, two,
Chase rushed down the passage, weaving between the stubs of the poles. A misstep could drive one of the rusty spears deep into his leg-although tetanus was the least of the threats to his life right now. “Get ready for the-”
The stone slab under his foot moved.
At least part of the ancient mechanism was still intact. With a rasping groan the ceiling blocks started to descend, dust raining through the gaps between them.
“What the fuck is this?” Starkman shrieked.
“Booby trap! We’ve got to get to the end before we get squashed!”
He ducked to avoid the stalactite-like remains of a pole, unclipping the light from his body armor. With no one on the bench to slow its progress, the ceiling was descending far quicker than in Brazil. But he could move faster.
The end of the passage was only feet away, but the last two bars were still intact, the gap between them narrow enough for the barbs to snag him.
He kicked, driving the heel of his boot against the nearest pole. It split in two, the top half plunging from its hole in the ceiling and slashing his leg.
But there wasn’t time for pain-the ceiling was still descending.
He cleared the last pole, sweeping the flashlight beam around as he tried to find the lever or switch or whatever the hell he was supposed to pull-
“Chase!” Starkman cried behind him. “Help!”
Chase looked back. Starkman, taller than him, had been forced into a crouch as the stones dropped-and his empty holster had snagged on one of the broken poles.
But if Chase went back to pull him free, the ceiling would crush them both within seconds.
Chase ignored him, hurriedly searching the wall-
He thrust his fist into the square opening, fingers outstretched.
Nothing but dry, broken splinters.
The ceiling pushed down, forcing him to his knees. In a few more seconds, the last block would reach the hole in the wall and crush his arm, and then the rest of him…
The mechanism had to be made of something stronger than wood, or it would have decayed-
Chase forced his arm deeper into the hole, fingers clawing.
Wooden fragments, cold stone…
The stub of some lever, part of a switch-it didn’t matter. He clamped his hand around it as tightly as he could, and pulled-
It moved!
It was only the slightest shift, but it was enough. Something inside the wall tripped with a hollow clunk-and the ceiling stopped.
Dust cascading all around him, Chase withdrew his hand from the hole to find that his palm was bleeding. The metal stub’s edges were as sharp as the rusted poles.
He turned the flashlight, looking for the spot where the exit had been in the Brazilian temple. A new crack
