I didn’t reply; I was too busy sucking in oxygen. As Rink reached the next point, I headed up once more, legs feeling like I was wearing lead-soled boots. I came to a standstill when we found Jefferson, and saw that the man was beyond help. There was a new spring in my heels when I set off again.
Finally we came out into an area that took me by surprise. I’d never been in the statue before. Like a lot of people I expected that it was solid but found it to be a large empty space, sheets of copper over a steel frame. It was like standing under the vaulted ceiling of a cathedral, that same hushed sense of awe thick in the atmosphere. From somewhere overhead there came a dull clink, followed moments later by a shuffle of movement that was multiplied by the echoing effect of the massive bell-shaped construction. We searched above us for the source of the sounds, but the reverberation made that impossible.
Speaking was unworkable now. Even at a whisper our voices would carry to Gant. Our saving grace was the rain pattering against the outer shell of the statue, a drum roll to hide our advance up the stairs. Each step needed to be measured, and we kept our elbows clear of the rails of the spiral staircase. Its design, like those found in medieval castles, made it difficult for more than one of us to advance at a time, so I stayed in the lead. The way I saw it, I’d led Rink here, so if anyone should be shot first it wasn’t going to be my friend.
We’d made it almost to the top when the sounds emanating from the observation point in the statue’s diadem grew louder. There were a couple of clunks, some metal being dragged, a few more indistinguishable sounds, followed by a thunder of feet pounding downwards. The stairs beneath our feet shook under the tread and we prepared ourselves.
Rink, being the taller of us, could angle his arm over my shoulder without impeding my aim. I also levelled my SIG at the stairwell above.
It would have been different if the staircase had come with walls, we’d have easily ambushed Gant as he ran into our line of sight, but the stairs were open for the purposes of visitors marvelling at the construction from within. Above us Gant skidded to a halt. He swore savagely, leaned out over the railing and fired his machine pistol.
We had nowhere to go, so we stood our ground. We returned fire as bullets spanged off the railings and steps. The angle saved us, but ricochets were a dire threat. A couple of bullets bounced off the steps and punctured the copper sheeting like moths had holed Lady Liberty’s robes.
‘Get the fuck out of here. There’s a bomb up there and it’s gonna blow any second!’
Gant’s voice came to us as a shriek of panic, all thoughts of glorious martyrdom gone now that he’d been thwarted of a free run for safety.
‘Stop it, then!’ I yelled back. ‘You don’t have to let it explode.’
‘I can’t, goddamnit, I can’t!’ Gant let loose a further hail of bullets, then followed them part way down the next flight.
Angling my gun I fired at the steps overhead. The rounds flattened against the steel supports, but the loud bangs that accompanied them caused Gant to come to a halt.
‘You’re not coming down, you prick,’ I shouted. ‘If that bomb goes off, you’re going with it.’
‘That’s you, isn’t it, the bastard who shot me back in Pennsylvania?’
‘Yes, the name’s Joe Hunter.’ I pressed an elbow in Rink’s ribs, nodded down the stairs. Rink shook his head vehemently; he wasn’t going anywhere. Go, I mouthed. Then I motioned that I was planning to draw Gant down after me. We could get him when he came down. Either that or we’d pen him in and leave him for his bomb to kill. Rink slipped away, while I covered his retreat by shouting, ‘You hear me, Gant? You defuse that fucking bomb or I’ll be the man who kills you.’
‘Motherfucker, you won’t be killing anyone. Don’t you get it? If we don’t get out of here in the next few seconds we’re both going to die. I. Can’t. Stop. It.’
‘Then we’re both going to die.’ My voice was firmer than I expected. I didn’t relish being caught in the blast, but I wasn’t moving until the sounds of Rink’s descent faded.
Gant didn’t like the idea of being scorched to the bones; he came, shooting as he pounded down the stairs. The angle offered no protection now and I was woefully outgunned. I was forced to retreat, but that was OK, I had no intention of being immolated either. To slow Gant down, I fired, picking the shots so that they were just enough to make the man above slow in his descent.
Gant was roaring in frustration, his anger rising in pitch with every second, but he had good reason.
Several flights above Gant I saw the inner curves of the statue change hue, going from a muted green to blossoming orange. Then there was a pop and the world held its breath.
The explosion that followed was deafening, and the flash of light that followed caused Gant to scream and me to jam a crooked elbow over my eyes to avoid being blinded. But that wasn’t the end of it. There was much worse to come.
Chapter 48
The rain had been such a feature of the last few days that I had grown familiar with it. But this rain was like nothing I’d experienced before. It was fire and brimstone flung from heaven to wipe out life. It came in droplets first, then in a molten curtain that spilled between the rails from above. Where it struck the steel structure, or the copper sheeting, it adhered to it and continued to burn, black smoke coiling everywhere. My coat, wet from the rain, wasn’t spared. Spatters of flaming petroleum set me on fire, and I ripped at my clothing to get out of it. I back- pedalled, slapping at another patch on my jeans, feeling the heat transfer to my palm as residue stuck there. I wiped my palm rapidly up and down a leg to put out the fire.
A klaxon sounded, the alarm like the shriek of an animal, and fire sprinklers jetted into life. It only made matters worse, spreading the flaming rain even further. Underlying the rise and fall of the fire alarm and the hiss of water, the dying roar of the explosion was a dull reverberation throughout the structure. Something clattered and bounced, fell past and I recognised it as a misshapen hunk of blackened metal — probably whatever receptacle the petrol had been in — and wished it was Gant’s gun. Better still, Gant’s head.
The man was somewhere above me and by the thrashing and howling he was having a devil of a time smothering the flames that had ignited his clothing. There was another noise, Rink yelling from down below. Some of the flaming petrol had spilled all the way down through the structure on to the lowest level. I hoped that Rink had made it to safety before the splash hit the floor and it wasn’t my friend shrieking in agony. Over Gant’s roars of anger and pain, I searched for Rink’s voice again. My friend’s words came back, measured, controlled, but tinged with anxiety. ‘Hunter, Hunter, you OK up there?’
All thought of keeping Rink’s presence a secret was pointless now that the dynamics of the exploding bomb had changed everything.
‘I’m OK, Rink. What about you?’
‘I’m fine, but there’s a goddamn wall of flame between us, and all this water ain’t helping. Don’t know how you’re gonna get down.’
‘I’ve still got something to do up here first.’
‘What about the radiation?’
Rink had a point. There was no way of knowing if I’d been drenched in the poisonous stuff, but it was highly likely in this confined space.
My silence said it all. If the plutonium had got me, coming down wouldn’t help. Fatalism struck. If it wasn’t going to kill me immediately, I might as well make good use of the time left.
If Gant was in full charge of his senses he would expect me to flee downwards. So I went up. And I went at speed, dodging pools of flaming fuel, leaping over others. I clanged up the last few steps and on to a platform. Off to the left was the hollow tube forming the upraised arm of Lady Liberty. Burning petrol spilled from above, a mini- cascade that made the tube an unreachable escape route. I spun to the right, feeling heat scorch my features. If I hadn’t already been wet then my hair would have spontaneously combusted. The heat forced me to move back a pace. Just as I did a writhing shape burst out of the smoke in front of me.
His clothing smoking, Gant came at me like a maniac, teeth bared in a rictus snarl. He fired the machine pistol, and I had to lunge away, almost going over the railing. I fired from the hip, and the bullets struck Gant in the body. The man staggered at the impact, but it didn’t stop him. I rebounded from the railing and launched myself at
