Then, without warning, a rapa slid out from the mist to his right and rose to its full height in front of him and— Blam!
The rapa's head exploded and the giant cat dropped like a stone, began flopping wildly in the mud.
Race didn't miss a beat, he just hurdled the fallen cat.
Once he was over it, he turned to see Schroeder—with an M-16 pressed against his shoulder—sticking out from the hatch at the back of the ATV.
Race ran.
A minute later, the fissure in the mountainside emerged from the fog. Just as he caught sight of it, he heard voices behind him, shouting in German.
“Achtung!”
“Schnell! Schnell!”
Then suddenly he heard Nash's voice shouting from somewhere in the mist behind him: “Race, hurry! They're behind you! They're heading for the temple!”
Race bolted into the fissure.
Its damp stone walls flashed past him on either side as he raced down its length.
Then all of a sudden he burst out into the massive canyon that housed the skyscraper-like rock tower. The fog was thick here too. The base of the rock tower was cloaked in a spooky grey mist.
Race didn't care. He saw the spiralling path to his left, jumped up onto it, took off up its steep curving length.
Back in the village, Renee Becker stared fearfully out through the narrow windows of the ATV.
About thirty Nazi troops were massing in the village now. They were dressed in state-of-the-art combat attire ceramic body armour, lightweight kevlar tactical helmets and, of course, black ski masks—and they moved with purpose, like a well-trained, well-prepared raiding party.
Renee saw one of the Nazis step out into the middle of the main street and remove his helmet. The man then peeled off his black ski mask and surveyed the area around him.
Renee's eyes went wide.
Although she had seen his picture a thousand times before on all manner of 'MOST WANTED' posters, seeing him here, now, in the flesh, made her skin crawl.
She immediately recognised the forward-brushed hair and the narrow slit-like eyes. And the left hand that was possessed of only four fingers.
She was looking at Heinrich Anistaze.
Without saying a word, Anistaze made a 'V' with his fingers and pointed in the direction of the ATV.
Already a dozen of his G-11-armed men had dashed past the all-terrain vehicle, heading up the riverside path toward the fissure and the temple.
Now six more hustled over to the ATV, while the remaining twelve took up defensive positions around the perimeter of the village.
Two men, however, stood off to one side, guarding the Nazis' radio-jamming device.
It was a small backpack-sized unit-called a pulse generator that corrupted enemy radio signals by emitting a controlled electromagnetic pulse, or EMP.
It was a rather unique device. Ordinarily, an electromagnetic pulse will affect anything with a CPU in it— computers, televisions, communications systems. Such a pulse is called an 'uncontrolled' EMP. By controlling the frequency of their pulse, however, and by ensuring that their own radios were set on frequencies above it, the Nazis were able to jam their enemies' radio systems while still maintaining their own communications.
As they were doing right now.
The six Nazis arrived at the ATV's side to find every window shutter closed and every hatch bolted.
Inside the big vehicle, Nash, Schroeder and Renee sat huddled in its various corners, holding their collective breaths.
The Stormtroopers didn't waste any time.
They immediately crouched underneath the big armoured vehicle and began planting the explosives.
Race ran.
Up and up, round and round, following the long, curving bend of the spiralling path.
Legs pumping. Heart pounding.
He came to the rope bridge. Bounced across it. Hurried up the stone steps that led to the temple.
Race burst through the encroaching fern leaves and abruptly found himself standing in the clearing in front of the portal.
The clearing was completely deserted.
No animal—neither man nor cat—was in sight.
The temple's portal yawned open before him, looming out of the fog. The downward-leading steps inside it were cloaked in shadow.
Do not enter at any cost.
