The Sacred Vault

took a roll of strong plastic netting and a bundle of harness straps. He and Tandon wrapped up the chest so it could be winched away.

‘Now, what about them?’ Vanita asked impatiently, indicating the prisoners. ‘I think they have lived far too long.’

‘I agree,’ said Khoil.

‘Good! Then kill them!’ She glared at Zec. ‘Now!’

Zec nodded, about to issue a command—

Shankarpa dived at Khoil with a scream of rage.

Zec swept up his MP5K, catching the guardian a savage blow across his face and knocking him down by the foot of the ramp. Another mercenary kicked Shankarpa in the chest and aimed his gun at his head—

Girilal snatched up the dagger and stabbed it to the hilt into the merc’s throat.

The other mercenaries whipped round to face the unexpected threat as the trooper fell, a spray of red spurting out from the wound. Zec fired at the old man. The burst of bullets hit Girilal in the chest and stomach, slamming him to the floor.

And in the moment of confusion, Eddie moved—

He grabbed the gun hand of the nearest man and twisted it round, clenching his trigger finger. The shots hit another mercenary at point-blank range, not even his body armour enough to stop them from ripping into his chest. He spun and collided with another pair of men, bowling them over.

Eddie slammed an uppercut into the first man’s jaw, hearing teeth snap under the impact, then tried to wrench the MP5K from his grasp. Even through the nerve-searing pain, the blood-spitting merc managed to resist, crunching an elbow into Eddie’s sternum and knocking him backwards. He tripped over Kit’s injured leg, making the Indian cry out, and fell heavily to the floor.

The other gunmen brought their weapons to bear, fingers tight on triggers, but Zec thrust his own gun into Eddie’s face before they could fire, shoving a boot on his chest. ‘Don’t move,’ he growled.

All eyes were on the two men.

Except Nina’s.

The sudden chaos had opened up an escape route, however briefly. She took it, throwing herself over the bottom of the ramp into the channel between its two halves. Some of the gunmen whirled at the movement, but she was already in the cover of the rising walls as they fired. Stone chips bombarded her like hailstones as she ran.

‘Kill her, kill her!’ Vanita screeched. The mercs rushed to the ramp and unleashed more bullets down the narrow passage, but Nina was clear, sprinting into the depths of the Vault of Shiva.

27

‘Get her!’ Zec ordered. Two of his men ran after the fleeing American.

Vanita turned to Khoil. ‘Bring the helicopter back, now.’

‘The chest isn’t ready,’ he said. Mahajan and Tandon had broken off from their preparations to protect their master and mistress when the shooting started.

‘I’m not talking about the chest. I want to get out of here!’

‘She won’t get away,’ said Zec.

‘I don’t care. Once I’m aboard, then we’ll collect the chest.’ She strode towards the doors, imperiously waving for her bodyguards to follow.

They looked at Khoil for instructions, caught between conflicting commands. ‘Chapal, go with her,’ he said, exasperation creeping into his voice. ‘Dhiren, go after Dr Wilde. Zec, finish securing the Vedas and take them to the ledge.’ Mahajan grunted and lumbered after Nina’s pursuers. Tandon followed Vanita, while Zec gestured for two of his men to continue preparing the chest.

The remaining mercenaries surrounded the prisoners. Girilal clutched weakly at the bullet wounds. Blood soaked his torn robes. Shankarpa, groggy from the blow to his head, pushed himself up - and saw him. He cried out in Hindi, trying to reach the dying man, but two of the mercenaries kicked him back down.

‘He’s his dad!’ Eddie protested. Khoil’s face remained dispassionate, but Zec relented, a silent nod prompting the mercs to back away. He released Eddie from under his foot, keeping his gun trained on him.

Shankarpa crawled to the yogi, horrified. ‘Father!’ he gasped, putting a hand on Girilal’s chest in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding.

Girilal moaned softly at the touch. ‘Janardan?’ he whispered. Blood bubbled in his mouth.

Shankarpa gripped his hand. ‘I am here, Father. I’m here!’ ‘Oh, Janardan . . . what have I done? I have taken a life. How . . . how will I explain myself to Shiva?’

‘Lord Shiva is a warrior,’ said Shankarpa, in desperate insistence. ‘He has fought many battles, he has killed demons and evil men. It is not a sin to fight to protect—’ His voice caught. ‘To protect those you love.’

Girilal’s eyes closed, a tear running down one cheek. ‘You must . . . find your mother. Tell her . . . I am sorry, I am so sorry. Ask her if she can . . . forgive me. Please. Please, my son . . . say you will do this for me.’

Shankarpa’s eyes welled with tears of his own. ‘I will, Father. I will. I promise.’

‘Thank . . .’ He convulsed, a soft cough speckling his chin with blood. ‘Janardan, oh . . . my son . . .’ A strangled moan escaped him, his whole body shuddering . . .

Then he was still.

Eddie felt a tightness in his throat as he watched the devastated Shankarpa slowly release his hold on his father’s hand. Anger spiking through sorrow, he looked at Khoil and Zec. The Indian was still unmoved by the sight, but Zec appeared troubled, almost guilty.

Beyond them, Vanita had been fastened into the harness, ready to be winched to the helicopter. The chest was secure in its own straps, the two mercenaries carrying it to the ledge. ‘Pramesh!’ she shouted over the rotor noise. ‘What are you waiting for? Kill them!’

Khoil nodded to Zec. ‘Do as she says.’

‘Ready weapons!’ Zec barked. The mercenaries snapped into action, MP5Ks locking on to Eddie, Shankarpa and Kit. ‘Aim—’

Another shout - from the depths of the Vault. ‘Bob Dylan!’

The strange war cry was followed by a loud bang, then a series of thudding clanks, getting faster and faster —

Eddie realised what it meant. He grabbed Shankarpa’s arm. ‘Down!’

They dropped, Eddie covering Kit with his body and pressing against the side of the ramp - as a fusillade of stones rained around them.

Nina had used the Vault’s contents as cover to block her pursuers’ aim as she ran. But she knew she couldn’t evade them for ever - she had to take offensive action.

At the moment the thought formed, she found herself beside the great wheel of a sarvato- bhadra - a stone-thrower.

Like the other ancient war machines, it was still primed for action.

She yanked the lever to release the mechanism, yelling ‘Bob Dylan!’ as a warning to Eddie. The large weight descended, its chain rattling and screeching. The wheel picked up speed startlingly quickly, the leather slings attached to its rim whipped outwards by centrifugal force.

Something else also moved outwards as the machine spun faster, a metal block protruding from a slot running from the wheel’s centre to its rim. A trigger: another block was mounted on the support frame. As the wheel reached its full speed, they clanged together—

Releasing the slings.

The wheel was mounted on the axle a few degrees off vertical. As it turned, it swayed from side to side - hurling the stones across the cavern in a deadly bombardment. They flew over the ramp, barely missing the vimana at its summit . . . and smashed down at the entrance.

Zec threw Khoil aside as a head-sized chunk of rock arced down and shattered where he had been