The Secret of Excalibur (23 page)

Nina looked up as a rush of wind came from the nearest of the holes in the ceiling - air being driven ahead of the deluge that was about to come. But there was another, more menacing sound just behind her as the huge slab above the main entrance began its grinding descent. ‘
Come on!
’ she yelled. Mitchell was getting to his feet, Excalibur not far from him, Chase still on his back in the centre of the chamber . . .

Dirty brown water erupted from the holes above with punishing force, hard enough to sweep up Orlovsky and slam him against the wall. Zakhar fell, landing with a splash and a screech of pain. The chilly torrent hit Chase from all sides at once, making him splutter and choke as he tried to sit up. Only Mitchell, bracing himself against the side wall, was able to pull himself upright. He fumbled for Excalibur, pulling the dripping sword from the muddy froth.

The churning flow surged around Nina’s legs, knocking her back against the edge of the door and jarring the gun from her hand. It vanished into the flood. The slab was still dropping, five feet above the floor, less . . . She ducked under it into the passage outside. ‘Eddie! Jack!’

Mitchell kept moving around the edge of the room as the water rose. ‘Nina, get out of here!’

‘Not without Eddie!’

Battered by the plunging columns of water, half blinded by spray, Chase rolled on to all fours to raise his head above the water. But it wasn’t by much - the room was filling with frightening speed.

And it would fill much faster once the door finally closed . . .

Mitchell reached the exit. Three feet and falling. He dropped to a crouch and leapt through.

‘
Eddie!
’

The panic in Nina’s voice drove a surge of adrenalin through Chase’s body, punching through the numbing effects of the cold onslaught. He got his bearings, saw the gap reducing to just two feet, eighteen inches, almost touching the surface of the water . . .

Last chance—

Chase sprang upright - then immediately dived forward, landing on his stomach a few feet short of the door and being carried along by the rush of water through the rapidly shrinking gap. The bottom edge of the stone scraped against his heels as he shot through. Over the thunder of the deluge he heard a last terrified scream from Zakhar - then both sounds were abruptly cut off by a ground-shaking bang as the stone slab slammed closed.

The rush of water immediately died down to a trickle, the torrent which had already escaped the chamber sluicing away down the passage. Chase sat up, gasping for breath as filthy water streamed off him.

‘Eddie, are you okay?’ Nina asked, helping him stand.

‘Jesus!’ he spluttered, wiping his face. ‘What
is
it with you and places full of death traps? Nice shooting, though. He would’ve killed me if you hadn’t tapped him in the shoulder.’

‘I was aiming for his head.’

Chase raised an eyebrow. ‘Really?’

‘Well . . . no,’ she admitted. ‘I just thought that would sound cool. I kind of fired in his general direction.’ He smiled and squeezed her shoulders.

Mitchell leaned against the wall, panting. ‘Damn, that was close.’ He straightened, then picked up Excalibur.

‘Thanks for your help, by the way,’ said Chase with unconcealed sarcasm.

‘This isn’t the time, Eddie,’ Nina said, moving to stand between the two men. ‘How the hell did they find us, anyway?’ That thought instantly led to another. ‘Oh, my God. Chloe. What if there’re more of them outside?’

‘We’d better get moving,’ said Chase, shaking as much water from his sodden clothes as he could and giving Mitchell another glare before they hurried back through the tunnels. Most of the water had drained from the trial of Nivienne, but the revolting stench of flammable gas from the chamber housing the carving of Merlin now permeated the entire system, spreading outwards once the tomb was open to the outside air.

They retrieved their belongings from the edge of the pool. Nina removed Mitchell’s shirt and put on her clothes, then picked up the walkie-talkie. ‘Chloe, are you there?’ Silence. ‘Chloe, can you hear me?’ Still no response. ‘Shit!’

They continued towards the entrance, Mitchell taking the lead with the sword. The smell of gas finally started to fade as they reached the foot of the slope. Daylight glared down from above. Nina peered round Mitchell in the hope of seeing Chloe, but all that was visible was sky. She was about to call out Chloe’s name, but Chase put a hand on her arm in silent warning.

‘I’ll go check it out,’ whispered Mitchell as he clambered up the incline. ‘Wait here.’

Nina and Chase watched as he dropped to a crouch, cautiously looking over the lip of the entrance. He paused, apparently seeing nothing, then advanced another step, leaning forward to check each side—

Suddenly, he was seized by a pair of huge hands and yanked out of the tunnel to be thrown to the ground. Maximov loomed over him, a white Band-Aid across the centre of his forehead. Another man stepped up beside him.

Nina knew the face from the photos Mitchell had shown them. It was Vaskovich’s right-hand man, Kruglov. ‘Jack Mitchell,’ he said with distaste, adding something in Russian. Mitchell began to reply, but Kruglov kicked him in the side, silencing him. The Russian looked down the hole. ‘Dr Wilde! I know you are down there, so show yourself.’

Nina had moved back into the darkness, pressing against Chase. ‘Shit!’ she whispered. ‘What do we do?’

‘Dr Wilde!’ Kruglov repeated impatiently. ‘Show yourself
now
, or I will kill your friends.’

‘Oh, God,’ said Nina, fear rising. ‘He’s got Chloe as well.’

‘Gimme your camera. Quick!’ Chase ordered. Confused, Nina pulled it from her pocket and passed it back to him. ‘Go on.’

‘
What?
’

He fiddled with the camera’s controls. ‘I’ll be right behind you, just buy me a few seconds. Go!’

Reluctantly, Nina stepped into the light. Kruglov’s wide mouth spread into a smug smirk. ‘Good. Thank you for finding Excalibur for us.’ He gestured for her to climb the slope.

‘Where’s Chloe?’ Nina demanded as she slowly ascended. Like Zakhar, Kruglov clearly had no idea that Chase was in the tomb.

‘She is here. Yorgi, bring her.’ Kruglov signalled to someone; a moment later, Chloe appeared, shoved into view by the man with the topknot whom Mitchell had knocked out at the castle. He stood behind her, gripping her arm.

‘Chloe,’ Nina said, stopping a few feet short of the entrance. ‘Are you okay?’ Chloe didn’t reply, only managing a terrified nod. ‘Let her go. You don’t need her any more.’

‘No, we don’t,’ Kruglov agreed. ‘Yorgi.’

Yorgi grinned - and Chloe convulsed, throwing her head back and gasping. He released her arm . . . and she dropped face first to the ground, an ugly knife protruding from her back.

‘No!’ Nina screamed. ‘No, you
bastards
! You didn’t have to kill her, she didn’t do anything!’

Maximov seemed to share her feelings, obviously objecting in Russian. His boss cut him off with a dismissive wave of one hand. ‘Come out of the hole,’ Kruglov ordered, taking out a gun. ‘Now!’

Nausea rose in Nina’s throat as she advanced, to see Chloe on the ground, red running down the yellow of her jacket. ‘Oh, God,’ she whispered as she emerged into daylight, seeing the Russians surrounding the entrance. Maximov, Dominika, Chloe’s killer, three others she didn’t recognise. Mitchell was sprawled on the ground at Kruglov’s feet, Excalibur beside him.

No way to escape.

Unless Chase could do something.

Forcing back his shock at what had just happened outside, Chase found what he’d been looking for - a sharp stone protruding from the sloping tunnel wall. He stepped out of cover and smacked the camera against it, breaking the glass covering the flash. Kruglov heard the sound, snapping round to find its source.

Chase pushed the shutter, and tossed the camera back down the tunnel behind him. He began a mental countdown. Ten, nine . . .

‘You! Out!’ Kruglov yelled, raising his gun.

‘All right, I’m coming,’ said Chase, raising his hands and quickly climbing to the entrance. He saw Mitchell on the ground, Nina kneeling beside the unmoving Chloe - and Kruglov’s people clustered round their leader. He gave Nina a look, his eyes momentarily flicking downwards. Understanding crossed her face. ‘But do you know what goes “quack”?’

Kruglov stared at him, puzzled. ‘What?’

‘A
duck
!’ He dived to the ground, Nina also dropping flat.

At the bottom of the tunnel, the camera’s timer reached zero.

It clicked, the cracked flash firing . . .

And the electric spark ignited the methane in the air.

20

T
he concentration of gas was barely high enough for it to catch fire - but it did, within an instant the thin flame leaping through the tunnels to the much denser pockets of methane deeper inside the Tor. They erupted, a chain reaction blasting the shockwave of expanding fires back towards the entrance—

A hot wind burst from the tunnel, showering Kruglov and his thugs with dirt and sending them reeling - followed a moment later by a fireball that exploded into the open air like the breath of an enraged dragon. Kruglov managed to dive away, shielding his face, but one man fell screaming as his clothes and hair were set aflame.

Chase jumped up into the hot air of the dissipating fire, slamming a punch into Yorgi’s face and knocking him backwards down the steep hillside. Mitchell snatched up Excalibur and rolled to swing it at Dominika, smacking her gun hand with the flat of the blade and knocking the pistol into the grass. He grabbed it and sprang to his feet.

Nina was also up, seizing a shovel and swinging it like an axe into the groin of another goon. He let out a choked scream and stumbled over the edge of the terrace. She was about to brain Kruglov with the spade when Mitchell ran past and pulled her away. ‘Come on! We gotta go!
Now!
’ She flung the spade at another Russian, knocking him down.

Chase realised that Kruglov had dropped his gun and was about to dive for it when he saw Mitchell practically dragging Nina away along the terrace. ‘Eddie, move it!’ the American yelled.

Chase hesitated, then ran after them. ‘You have a
gun
!’ he shouted at Mitchell as he caught up. ‘Shoot them!’

‘There’s too many of them! We’ve got to get out of here!’

Chase didn’t agree - they had the advantage of numbers, but Kruglov’s people had been thrown into confusion, and were only now starting to recover. But since Mitchell had the gun, Chase had no choice now but to go along with his decision.

They raced along the terrace, heading towards the steep northern face of the Tor. Despite the terrain, several cows stood on the hillside ahead of them, startled by the noise. Chase looked back as they skirted the nervous animals. Kruglov was on his feet, bellowing orders. His subordinates gave chase. ‘Jack, shoot!’

‘You want to shoot the
cows
?’

‘No! Shoot
over
them, scare them!’

Mitchell pointed the gun back and fired three rapid shots into the air. The cows immediately panicked, breaking into clumsy gallops away from the noise . . .

Straight at the Russians.

Kruglov saw the approaching stampede and without hesitation leapt from the terrace, rolling down the hill. The others were slower to react, Dominika after a moment following Kruglov’s example and flinging herself down the slope. Maximov stumbled to a stop as if unable to believe his eyes, while another two men hurriedly reversed direction and ran back along the terrace.

They didn’t get far.

Not even someone of Maximov’s size and strength could stop a charging cow - though that didn’t prevent him from trying to grab the leader of the herd as it ran blindly at him. He was swept off his feet, clinging to the cow for a couple of seconds before being flung clear and hitting one of the fleeing men. They both cartwheeled downhill to end up in a dazed heap.

The cows thundered on. The other Russian looked back and had just enough time to begin a scream before two of the animals slammed into him, one on each side, crushing the life from his body.

‘They should’ve
moo
ved,’ said Chase with a grim smile.

Nina made a disgusted noise at the pun. ‘Where are we going?’

Mitchell pointed ahead as they rounded the Tor. A path led away from the hill across the field. A gate was visible at its edge, a road beyond it. A few sightseers stood in confusion on the path, unsure how to respond to the unfamiliar sound of gunfire. ‘If we can find a car, we can get clear and call for backup. I’ll make an emergency call to the embassy, and they’ll tell the Brits - we’ll have armed units, choppers, whatever we need in twenty minutes!’

They ran across the field. Nina glanced back. The remaining Russians were in pursuit again. ‘That’s if we can
last
twenty minutes!’

‘We’re gonna have to!’ The sword still in one hand, Mitchell used the other to vault effortlessly over the gate. Chase waited until Nina had climbed it, then scrambled over the obstacle himself.

‘Okay, a car,’ said Nina, looking round. They had emerged from the field in a lay-by at the side of a narrow country lane. A pair of identical black 7 Series BMWs were parked at one end; almost certainly the Russians’ vehicles. ‘Can you hot-wire them?’

Mitchell shook his head. ‘Not in time.’ The only other vehicle in sight was an old sky-blue Volkswagen camper van. They exchanged unimpressed looks. ‘Not what I would’ve picked . . .’

No choice. Kruglov and the others were still coming.

They ran to the van. The passenger door was open, smoke drifting lazily from within. Chase flung open the driver’s door. A young couple looked at him in marijuana-fuddled surprise. ‘Hello, hi,’ said Nina. ‘We need to borrow your van.’

‘Sorry, but you can’t have it,’ said the man languidly, his posh accent suggesting that his choice of vehicle was less out of financial necessity than as a fashion statement. ‘You see, there’s this concept known as personal property, and—’

Mitchell snapped up the gun. ‘
Get outta the damn Microbus!
’

The young woman shrieked and leapt from the VW, the man raising his hands and stumbling out after her. ‘Okay, take it, I don’t really like it that much, just don’t hurt me!’

‘Get rid of this shit,’ Chase growled at him, plucking a joint from the camper’s ashtray and flicking it on to the road in a flurry of burning embers. He climbed into the driving seat, finding the keys in the ignition. ‘All aboard!’

Nina hopped into the front passenger seat as Mitchell slid open the back door and climbed inside. The van’s rear was set out like a tiny apartment, with a bed, a small table and even a gas camping stove. He dropped Excalibur on the bed and readied his gun.

Chase turned the key. The starter whined for a moment before the distinctive puttering rattle of the Volkswagen’s air-cooled engine kicked in. He revved hard and slammed the long gear lever into first with a crunch, then let out the clutch. The VW didn’t so much spring away as lurch, but at least they were moving.

A glance in the mirror—

‘
Down!
’ he yelled, hunching in the seat as he swerved the van on to the narrow lane. Nina bent double in her seat, Mitchell dropping flat on the floor behind her as the rear window shattered. Shots cracked from the lay-by as the Russians opened fire. The rear-mounted engine took several hits, bullets clanging off the cylinder block as they ripped through the bodywork. Cushions and pillows exploded in clouds of feathers.

Still sitting low, Chase kept driving. The winding road was so narrow the van almost filled it, hedges blurring past little over a foot from each door. If anyone came the other way, they would be trapped.

The shooting stopped. Chase raised his head high enough to check the mirror. The Russians were running for the BMWs. Then the road curved, and they disappeared from view.

Nina cautiously sat up. ‘Are we okay?’

Mitchell rose to his knees behind her, brushing away feathers. ‘Yeah, but they’re gonna catch up real quick.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘In their BMWs? Ya think?’

‘I’ll call the embassy.’ He took out his phone.

‘What about you?’ Chase asked Nina. ‘You okay?’

‘Yeah, but . . .’ The full impact of what had just happened finally hit her. ‘Oh, my God. Chloe. They just killed her, they
murdered
her, right in front of us. For nothing!’

‘Kruglov’s a psychopath,’ said Mitchell, looking up from his call.

‘But he’s also a smart one - he didn’t want to leave any witnesses.’

‘Seemed like he knew you,’ Chase noted, rounding a bend to bring the van towards the outskirts of Glastonbury.

‘Our paths have crossed. Unfortunately.’ Chase was about to ask him more, but then his call continued. ‘Peach? Mitchell. We have a situation here - I need you to get on to the Brits, right now, and get us as much support as they can. Yeah, this is an emergency. We’ve taken fire and the bad guys are going to catch up fast. We’re not exactly in a muscle car here.’

‘Tell him to send the police to Glastonbury Tor as well,’ Nina said, turning in her seat. ‘There’s been a murder.’

Mitchell nodded and relayed the information, then listened to Peach for several seconds before replying. ‘Okay. We’ll just have to stay ahead of them for as long as we can. We’re in a blue VW Microbus, heading for the north end of Glastonbury village, going west.’ He listened again, then said, ‘Okay,’ and ended the call.

‘How long?’ Chase asked.

‘Depends how on the ball your guys are. Twenty minutes, maybe fifteen.’

Nina saw a flash of gleaming black metal behind them. ‘Too long!’ Both BMWs were powering along the winding lane after them.

Mitchell used his gun to knock out the broken glass in the rear windscreen, then crouched. The first 7 Series roared closer, Kruglov leaning from the front passenger window, taking aim—

Mitchell fired first - but not at Kruglov. Instead he unleashed six rapid shots at his driver. The windscreen crazed as if hit by a shotgun blast, an almost opaque white speckled with red.

The BMW swerved. Kruglov ducked back inside and grabbed the steering wheel, but too late. The car rode up on to the steep grassy verge, tearing through bushes before clipping a tree and rolling on to its roof. The other windows blew out.

Nina caught a glimpse of green hair as Dominika struggled through one of the rear windows. The second BMW braked hard to avoid a collision. The overturned car, its front end still buried in the bushes, had partially blocked the road. For a moment she thought the chase was over, but then Kruglov crawled from the wreck, angrily waving the other car on. The 7 Series mounted the opposite verge, its bumper shoving the inverted car deeper into the bushes, before dropping back on to the tarmac and pursuing again.

‘This might be a bad time,’ said Mitchell, ‘but I’ve only got two bullets left.’

Nina remembered how the Grand Cherokee’s pursuit had come to a sudden end in Bournemouth. ‘Are there any bottles back there? We could throw them in the road, blow out their tyres!’

Mitchell pulled open the little cupboards beneath the table and under the bed. ‘Plastic, plastic, metal,’ he said as he tossed items aside. ‘No glass, dammit!’ He yanked the covers from the bed, more feathers flying. ‘Nothing!’

Chase now had greater concerns. ‘Shit,’ he gasped, seeing a T-junction coming up fast. ‘Hang on!’

‘To
what?
’ Nina demanded. ‘This whole thing is just one big crumple zone!’

Chase had no choice but to brake, the corner too tight. The VW rolled like a ship in heavy waters as they screeched through the junction. Branches thwacked the van’s side as it skidded on to the verge before Chase managed to straighten out. Ahead, he saw a car - no, a line of cars, crawling along behind something out of sight round a long bend.

No traffic coming the other way - yet. He crashed down through the gears, foot to the floor. The camper van’s engine buzzed like furious wasps in a tin can. Forty miles an hour, fifty, the speedometer needle rising agonisingly slowly as they caught up with the dawdling traffic.

‘Here they come!’ Mitchell warned, raising his gun again. The BMW slid round the corner, tyres smoking.

The cars ahead were doing less than thirty. Chase pulled out to pass them, sounding the horn. The VW was at fifty-five, and struggling to go any faster. The 7 Series was already catching up.

The curve straightened out - to reveal an oncoming car rushing straight at them.

The BMW pulled out as well, trapping them—

Still sounding the horn, Chase desperately swerved the VW to the left, slicing into the line of traffic and side-swiping a Renault Mégane with a crunch of metal. Nina shrieked as the passenger window broke with the impact, showering her with glass. The oncoming Fiat missed by barely an inch, the force of the car’s slipstream rocking the Volkswagen.

Chase grimaced, foot still pressed hard on the accelerator as he turned back into the right-hand lane. The Mégane braked hard - and the car behind smashed into it.

The Fiat skidded as its driver panicked, blocking the road and leaving the BMW with nowhere to go except into the suddenly braking traffic.

It body-slammed another car, sending it crashing through a hedge. The Fiat clipped the 7 Series and tore off its rear bumper. The Russians spun out, coming to rest almost sideways-on to the traffic.

‘Jesus!’ Nina gasped. At the relatively low speed at which the line of cars had been travelling she doubted anyone would have been seriously hurt, but there would still be several badly shaken people.

Mitchell didn’t share her concern, however. ‘Got ’em!’ he whooped.

‘Yeah, but for how long?’ Chase asked. Unless the BMW had been crippled by the collisions, its driver would be able to restart and straighten out in ten seconds, twenty at most.

He looked ahead. The front of the line was coming up fast, the cars held up behind a trundling Vauxhall Vectra, its elderly driver hunched over the wheel resolutely denying the existence of anything beyond his narrow cone of vision. Despite not wanting to involve innocent bystanders, Chase still swept the van back into the left-hand lane just inches in front of the Vauxhall, hoping to shock the old man into checking his mirrors once in a while.

The road ahead was clear and straight - and had no exits, being hemmed in by fences and trees on both sides.

The camper van was still stuck at fifty-five. The BMW was moving again and gaining rapidly, a black panther about to pounce. The man who had been burned at the Tor leaned out, aiming—