Empire of Gold

bodies with heart-stopping force. After a moment they fell still, bobbing in the electric-blue water.

‘Don’t say it,’ Nina warned Eddie.

‘What, shoc—’

‘I said don’t.’

‘You’re no fun.’ He finally managed to eject the stuck round, the next slotting into the chamber with a reassuring clack.

Kit shoved past Suarez. ‘Eddie, look out!’ More soldiers were running from the helipad, alerted by the gunshot.

There was no way they could reach and climb the wall before being shot. ‘Come on, round the front!’ Eddie shouted, pushing the President in the right direction. ‘Nina, give me that grenade!’

Stikes and Callas rushed into the Clubhouse’s entrance hall, finding several soldiers milling in confusion – and Maximov, barging them aside as he ran to his employer. ‘Boss, boss!’ he called over the noise of the alarm. ‘The cells – it was Eddie Chase!’

‘What?’ Stikes couldn’t conceal his shock. Chase was a resilient little bastard, but the idea that he could not only have survived a plane crash, but then found his way to Caracas and penetrated Callas’s headquarters, was almost too much to accept. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, yes! I know him – he said he knew you!’

‘What about Suarez?’ Callas demanded.

‘He let him go!’ Callas’s eyes widened in dismay. ‘And the others too. He tricked me!’

‘Not exactly the hardest thing he’s done recently,’ Stikes growled. The big Russian was a recent recruit to 3S – and, it seemed, the company could have found better. ‘How long ago?’

‘Just a minute or two. And boss, they said they had to find some . . . some disc, I don’t know what.’

If Callas’s eyes had been wide before, they were now practically bugging from their sockets. ‘De Quesada’s DVD – it’s still upstairs! If they get it to a TV station . . .’

Rojas ran in through the front door, shouting urgently in Spanish. ‘Shots from the side of the house,’ the general reported to Stikes. He started to issue orders—

A piercing bang came from outside, followed by screams.

‘Get in!’ Eddie yelled, pointing at the armoured car in front of the house. A soldier had been leaning through its open rear hatch, asking others nearby what was happening – until the stun grenade tossed into the middle of the group blasted their senses into oblivion.

Eddie ran for the V-100, unleashing a burst of fire at the guards near the gate to force them into cover behind the parked Tiunas, then blew away a soldier running through the mansion’s front door. He hurdled the man who had fallen from the hatch and took up a defensive position as Nina, Suarez and finally Kit piled into the vehicle.

‘There’s a guy in here!’ Nina shouted. The V-100’s driver was still in his seat, hands clamped to his ears in agony.

Kit shoved the case containing the statues and DVD under a narrow metal bench. ‘I’ll get him.’ He and Suarez dragged the driver from his seat, then bundled him past Nina and threw him out of the back.

Eddie shot another soldier lurking in the doorway, then hopped into the V-100 and hauled the heavy hatch shut. ‘I’ll drive,’ he said, making his way to the front. He couldn’t help noticing that the armoured car had an extremely vulnerable spot; part of its roof was completely open so that a gunner could stand on a step to operate the machine gun. A grenade tossed into the parapet would kill them all.

He would have to make sure nobody got close enough to throw one. ‘Hold tight!’ he warned as he dropped into the driver’s seat. He had driven similar armoured vehicles in the past; the controls would be heavy, but once it got moving it would be almost impossible for anyone – or anything – to stop it.

The engine was already running. He put it into gear and stepped on the gas.

The Commando’s acceleration wouldn’t break any records, the vehicle weighing over nine tons. Eddie swung it towards the gate, peering through the narrow slot of toughened glass that acted as a windscreen. The men ahead had regrouped, taking up positions behind the Tiunas.

Rifles ready. Flames blossomed ahead as they opened fire.

Nina shrieked and ducked as bullets clanged off the V-100’s sloping front and ricocheted into the night. More impacts struck the APC’s rear as soldiers poured out of the mansion and joined the attack. The noise was like being trapped in a steel drum during a hailstorm.

Despite this, Eddie almost laughed. ‘Takes more than an AK to get through this much armour.’

Kit looked through one of the small rear windows as the V-100 picked up speed. ‘I think they have something more!’

Stikes’s mercenaries emerged from the Clubhouse, pushing the soldiers aside. Their M4s were, if anything, less powerful than the Venezuelans’ AK-103s – but the M203 grenade launchers beneath their barrels were another matter entirely.

Eddie couldn’t see what was happening to the rear, the V-100 lacking mirrors, but from Kit’s alarm he could make an educated guess. Foot pressed hard on the accelerator, he spun the wheel back and forth. More shots grazed the APC’s flanks as it swung from side to side. The armour might be able to withstand a grenade impact, the hull angled to deflect incoming fire away - but he was more worried about the wheels. They could still run on the reinforced tyres even if they were punctured by bullets, but a grenade explosion would destroy them.

Kit dropped flat. ‘Incoming!’

Eddie hunched down, Nina and Suarez shielding their heads as an M203 round hit the back of the armoured car – and spun away to explode on the lawn. The hull had done its job.