Jon Tracy - The Rome Prophecy
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- Название:The Rome Prophecy
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- Год:неизвестен
- ISBN:нет данных
- Рейтинг книги:4 / 5. Голосов: 1
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It clicks again.
But what next?
He looks at the second slot.
To the left – or to the right?
Beyond the wall, he hears another bang.
Then another.
It’s gunfire.
Tom goes with his instinct.
He jams the pendant into the left-hand slot and turns it anticlockwise.
135
The huge temple doors are turning black.
But they’re not burning.
Valentina can’t believe it.
Why doesn’t the wood catch fire?
She guesses it’s to do with the age and strength of the oak. The fact that the flames from the torch are just not powerful enough to set it ablaze.
Maybe she’s being impatient.
She places the torch on the floor, where the two doors meet.
It has no effect.
Snapping point.
She pulls out the Glock and heads towards the pulpit.
If she can’t burn their way out, perhaps she can blast them out.
The old woman is still there.
Hands on the glass, scowling down at Valentina.
Well, screw her.
Valentina swings the pistol up and lets off a shot.
The glass doesn’t even splinter.
It’s like throwing pebbles at the windscreen of a truck.
She lets off another two shots, grouping them near the first.
The crone smiles.
It would take a SAM missile to blow the glass, and both women know it.
But Valentina’s not giving up.
She gathers more torches from the walls and stacks them by the door.
At least the flies don’t like the smoke, or the flames.
She hugs the child close to her and reassures her again. ‘We’ll get out, Sweetheart, don’t worry. I promised you. Any minute now, we’ll be out of here.’ She kisses her cheek and hugs her again.
At the far end of the temple, a hidden door slides open.
Five of Mater’s most trusted guards enter.
Sweetheart sees them and silently screams.
Only when she points at the armed men wearing scarlet hoods and robes does Valentina realise the full extent of the trouble they’re in.
136
The second lock pops as sweetly as the third.
Tom’s heart is all but in his mouth as he completes the sequence by plunging the pendant into the third and final slot.
He twists it and hears a satisfying click.
He gives the front of the big tree a shove.
It doesn’t move.
He can’t believe it!
He’s sure he got everything right.
He pushes again.
This time a large section falls away. There’s an almighty crash. A cloud of dust billows up on the other side of the passageway.
Tom squeezes through the gap.
The unmistakable crack of gunfire echoes towards him.
Twenty metres away there are flames.
More shots ring out.
Through the smoke, Tom sees walls and doors.
The gunfire is coming from where the fire is.
It has to be Valentina.
He runs towards the flames and takes a kick at the doors.
They bounce but don’t break open.
He takes another run.
A harder jump.
They still don’t move.
Tom’s eyes fall on the three statues of Cybele forming a centrepiece a little further from him.
He dislodges one and picks it up in a bear hug.
It’s as heavy as a truck, and the weight is killing his damaged shoulder.
He grits his teeth and ignores the pain. He hoists the heavy statue so he can hold it like a Scotsman tossing a caber.
He charges the flaming doors.
Cybele’s stone head breaks off on impact.
Tom shifts all his weight behind the base.
The doors burst open.
137
Valentina pushes Sweetheart behind her and drops the first of the Galli with a body shot.
Two other guards are coming up fast behind him and another two are spreading wide to outflank her.
The front two open fire.
A marble pillar soaks up their shots.
Valentina fires around it. Two rounds to the right, three to the left.
One of the bullets wings a guard in his leg. He falls clutching his upper thigh and screams like a trapped pig.
Valentina sees Sweetheart standing open-mouthed behind her.
She pulls her tight behind the pillar, while blindly pumping off an arc of covering shots.
More gunfire rips into the marble by her face.
She sinks to the floor – sniper level – and scans the smoke and swirling flies for the remaining three gunmen.
The doors crash open behind her.
She wheels around and is about to let off a volley of shots when Tom sprawls on to the temple floor.
She spins back round, knowing that his intrusion will also have distracted her attackers.
Two of them are rushing her.
Blunderers.
Her trained soldier’s hand pumps out four shots, two apiece.
They drop like flies.
Something for the flesh-eaters to snack on later.
Three down – two still to go.
But she can’t see them.
Tom grabs Sweetheart and carries her out of the room, her feet wriggling in the air.
Outside the burning door he pulls up quickly.
He’s face to face with Mater.
A gleaming ancient sword is raised in her right hand.
It slashes downwards.
Tom swings Sweetheart out of the way.
The sword nicks the top of his right hip.
He turns to face the blade.
When she makes the next swipe, he’ll move back a pace and disarm her.
He never gets his chance.
A burst of automatic gunfire rakes Mater’s legs.
Tom turns.
Three black-uniformed soldiers are rushing towards him, sub-machine guns still spilling smoke. He guesses they’ve overwhelmed the Galli guards at farm level and worked their way down.
He lifts Sweetheart into his arms and covers her eyes. Just the sight of the troops in combat gear is enough to terrify her.
Lorenzo Silvestri recognises Tom from the intel he’s been given. ‘Where’s Valentina?’
‘In there.’ Tom holds Sweetheart tight to his chest and points to the temple.
Lorenzo and one of his team don’t break stride as they rush the room.
The third soldier peels away to attend to Mater. He glances at her, then shouts into his radio for paramedics.
The bullets have shattered her kneecaps.
Within seconds, more troops appear.
From inside the temple comes the ripping sound of rapid gunfire.
Tom kneels, and tries to reassure Sweetheart that she’s going to be safe. ‘Don’t be frightened. These soldiers are good men. Whatever horrible things have happened to you, it’s all over now. All over.’
And it is.
Lorenzo Silvestri walks back through the charred and splintered double doors, smoke swirling behind him, his sub-machine gun slung low.
He smiles at Tom and steps aside.
Valentina is a pace behind.
Her face is covered in blood. Her hair is messier than it’s ever been. But to Tom she looks wonderful.
By the time she sees him, he is already next to her and holding her.
They kiss and cling to each other as though the world has just begun. And in a way, it has.
They hold on tight and become aware of a strange feeling, one not at all linked to their emotions.
Tiny hands are wrapped around both their legs.
Hands that are holding them every bit as tightly as they’re holding each other.
138
Paramedics patch up the wounded.
Valentina’s face looks worse than it feels. Her lips are split and bloated. There’s a cut on her cheek that thankfully doesn’t need stitches and some jaw ache that she knows will disappear once she’s had a bath and opened her second bottle of red wine.
Tom’s in slightly worse condition.
Now that the action’s died down, his shoulder is a mass of pain, and he’s enormously grateful for the big syringe of morphine a paramedic is squeezing into him.
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