again, forcing Eddie to duck – but not before he pushed the weapon’s magazine release button. The automatic’s slide locked back as the mag clattered into the cargo bed.
The driver pulled the trigger twice more, getting nothing but metallic clicks in response. By the time he realised his gun was empty Eddie had shoved the corpse over the truck’s side and reached into the cab to hook an arm round his neck. Choking, the driver struggled to break free – then saw that the truck was heading for the side of the little wooden bridge. He yanked at the steering wheel—
The F-150 lurched, tilting on its suspension and throwing Eddie sideways. He lost his hold on the driver and reeled across the cargo bed, almost falling out before grabbing the rollbar.
The passenger door swung open and hit the bridge’s fence with a huge bang. It was ripped away, spinning backwards. The mangled metal scythed past Eddie, slashing the back of his jacket.
The driver regained control, straightening out. Eddie was about to attack again when he saw something ahead – something that hadn’t been there when the expedition drove up the road. A waterfall spewed down the hillside from high above, pounding the road in a swirling cloud of spray.
He gripped the rollbar tightly as the truck drove through the torrent, crashing across the newly created dip where the muddy track had been washed over the cliff. The driver fought with the wheel as the pickup skidded.
Eddie saw his chance. If he got into the cab through the missing door, he could use the Steyr to kill the driver and immediately take the wheel before the F-150 went out of control.
He drew the gun from his jacket and climbed over the pickup’s side.
The Nissan rounded a bend. ‘Where the hell did that come from?’ Macy gasped, seeing the new waterfall.
Nina looked up for its source. There was only one possible explanation: when the river feeding the falls concealing El Dorado had been blocked, the water rose behind the dam . . . and was now finding other ways downhill. ‘Oh God,’ she said in alarm. ‘This whole valley might flood!’
Eddie swung into the cab, aiming the Steyr at the driver—
The Peruvian hurled his empty gun.
Eddie jerked his head sideways, but the automatic struck his cheek hard enough to draw blood and knocked him backwards. The Steyr dropped into the footwell as he grabbed at the dashboard, missed, toppled through the gaping doorway . . .
His hand clamped round the seatbelt.
It didn’t stop him. The reel unwound, pitching him out of the truck—
The seatbelt’s inertial lock mechanism activated, yanking him to a stop. One hand clutching the belt, Eddie dangled out of the open door, his back almost parallel to the ground.
Grinning sadistically, the driver turned the wheel to smear him against the rock wall.
Eddie grabbed with his free hand for the seatbelt, the door frame, anything – but there was nothing within reach. The cliff face rushed past, getting closer . . .
Something sticking out of the ground, right ahead—
He snatched up the wooden cross and hurled it into the cab.
The driver had turned to watch Eddie’s head hit the wall – but instead took the pointed stake in his left eye. He screamed, reflexively bringing up both hands to pull out the cross. The F-150 swerved away from the wall – and towards the precipice.
The change of direction swung Eddie into reach of the doorframe. He hauled himself inside. The rebel was still screaming, one hand pressed to his face as blood gushed from his eye socket. The truck jolted over the road’s crumbling edge—
Eddie grabbed the wheel. The Ford lurched back across the track, throwing the driver against his door. Flailing for balance, he looked across the cab with his remaining eye – to see Eddie twist in the passenger seat and slam both feet against his chest.
The battered vehicle’s door flew open, the rebel shooting out of it like a cannonball. With an echoing wail, he vanished into the abyss.
Eddie pulled himself across and took the controls, rounding the next bend to see the Land Cruiser and the Hummer ahead. He shut the door, groped for the Steyr, then accelerated after them.
A radio crackled on the parcel shelf, a voice speaking in Spanish. Pachac.
Pachac looked back at the F-150. Only one figure was visible inside it. ‘Mateo, did you get him? Mateo!’
The reply was in English, almost calm despite the struggle that had just taken place. ‘No. He didn’t. He’s dead. And Pachac?’
The terrorist leader exchanged a worried look with his driver before answering. ‘What?’
‘You’re next.’
Pachac stared at the walkie-talkie, then yelled orders to his men in the Land Cruiser. This time, there was no anger in his voice, only fear. ‘Stop him! Kill him!
Eddie dropped the radio, eyes fixed on the two 4?4s ahead. The Land Cruiser was falling back from the H3. He could see two men inside it, the passenger climbing over the seats into the cargo space.
He also glimpsed the unmistakable silhouette of an AK-47 in the rebel’s hands.
The Steyr was wedged under his thigh. He pulled it out and switched it to his left hand. The Toyota was still slowing. The tailgate hatch swung up, the man inside aiming his AK out of it—
