Anthony Horowitz - Necropolis

There were more guards on the upper levels. Although the building held only two prisoners, the chairman had taken no chances. Now they opened fire on the invaders. Lohan saw the flash of bullets, heard some of the Triad men cry out. A few bodies fell. Then someone threw a grenade. Another fireball, and one of the guards pitched forward as if diving into a swimming pool, disappearing into the darkness below.

Lohan himself led a group of fighters four floors down into the basement, Richard and Jamie close behind him. Only now was Richard beginning to see the hopelessness of the task. There had to be at least two hundred cells in the prison. Were they really going to blow every one of them open? They came to a corridor with more steel doors set at intervals. A guard ran towards them, bringing his machine gun round to aim.

“Drop the gun!” Jamie said. “Lie on the floor.”

The guard did as he was told. A second guard appeared. He was less fortunate. Lohan shot him down. They had been in the prison for less than three minutes but they knew that reinforcements would already be on the way. There was another explosion upstairs, a scream, the clatter of bullets hitting metal.

Thirty doors stretched out in front of them. There was no point looking for bolts or keys. Lohan rapped out an order and his men blew them open, one at a time, using balls of plastic explosive. Richard and Jamie continued forward as, one after another, the doors were smashed out of their frames, orange flames briefly flaring up. The corridor stank of cordite. Smoke and brick dust filled the air. But every cell was empty. How much more time did they have?

“They’re at the end,” Jamie said suddenly. “The last door on the left.”

Lohan stared at him. But Richard nodded, relief surging through him. Somehow Jamie had managed to connect with them in his own way… telepathically. Lohan shouted something and his men ran down to the door he had indicated. A final blast. It swung open. Two figures came out into the corridor, choking and covered in dust. It was Matt and Scarlett.

“Matt!” Richard grabbed hold of his friend and embraced him. The night before, when he had pulled himself out of the water, he had been afraid that he would never see him again. “Are you OK?”

Matt nodded. “This is Scarlett.”

“I’m delighted to meet you.” Richard didn’t know what else to say. He examined the girl with the close-cropped hair. She looked worn out.

Jamie said nothing but he went over to her so that the three Gatekeepers were together.

“We have to get to the Tai Shan Temple,” Matt said.

Lohan was impressed. The boy was only fifteen but already he had assumed command. The experiences of the past twenty-four hours didn’t seem to have had any effect on him. But there was still more trouble to come. Quickly, Lohan took out his mobile phone, pressed a button and spoke a few words. He waited until he had heard what he wanted, then he turned to Matt. “The temple is safe now,” he said. “But we have another problem and it may be more serious. There is a storm. In fact my people are saying that it may be something worse…”

But they had all become aware of it. Above the gunfire and the explosions. Beyond the battle that was taking place inside the prison, the wind was screaming. The whole building was shuddering. The full force of the typhoon had fallen on Hong Kong and its total destruction had begun.

The sun was setting in Cuzco, the ancient city of the Incas, in Peru. There was a band playing and the sound of pan-pipes and the throb of drums rose up into the evening air. The shadows were stretching out over the foothills. The restaurants and cafes were beginning to fill up at the end of another day.

Pedro knew that they shouldn’t be here. This wasn’t Matt’s plan. He wished that they had been able to speak over the satellite telephone, but for the past forty-eight hours there had been only silence. A whole world separated them. They were thousands of miles apart. But he was about to take the single step that would bring them together. He wondered if it was a good idea.

Not that he had been given any choice.

The night before, Pedro had woken up to find Scott leaning over him. The two boys were sharing a stone house in Vilcabamba, high up in the Andes. This was the lost city where Pedro had gone with Matt when they were hiding from Diego Salamanda. It was hidden above the cloud forest in an extraordinary location, a mountain peak that couldn’t be seen by anyone. Getting there had involved a helicopter ride and then a one-day hike from Cuzco. The city itself could only be reached by a stone staircase which could vanish in a single moment.

“Scott…? What is it?”

Scott was deathly pale and his eyes were full of worry. Pedro had never seen him like this before. “Jamie’s in trouble,” he said. “We have to go to Hong Kong.”

“We can’t…”

“Pedro. You don’t understand. We have to go straight away. I have to go to Jamie. I’ve had a dream.”

The dreamworld. All of them had been there. They all knew its significance. They had talked about it often enough. Pedro knew that he couldn’t argue. If Scott had been sent a message, they couldn’t ignore it, particularly if it involved his brother. And yet the doors were supposed to be too dangerous. It was the whole reason Matt and Jamie had flown to Europe and why the two of them had been left behind.

“Are you sure…?” he began.

Scott wasn’t in the mood for an argument. “I’m leaving as soon as it’s light,” he said. “You can come with me or you can stay behind.”

The next morning they left together. One of the Incas escorted them down to the clearing where the helicopter was waiting and then it was a two-hour flight to Cuzco airport. All the time, Scott had been silent and intense. He still hadn’t explained what he had seen. He was often reserved but now he seemed miles away, staring ahead with empty eyes. Pedro was trying not to think what they were letting themselves in for. Of all the Gatekeepers, he alone had never been through one of the doors, and the thought of transporting himself half-way round the world filled him with dread.

And here they were now in Cuzco. It was a beautiful evening with hundreds of tourists milling around the brightly coloured stalls that were spread out in front of them. The cathedral would be closing soon. The last visitors were coming out, surrounded by street children, begging for money and sweets. Taxis, like wind-up toys made out of tin, were buzzing around the main square.

Pedro was hungry but he didn’t dare suggest that they stop and eat. He knew what the answer would be.

“There it is…” Scott pointed at a great pile of bricks and ornate windows, a Spanish church built on the site of a place of worship that had been there centuries before. The Temple of Coricancha. It was where he and Jamie had found themselves when they first arrived in Peru. Inside was the doorway that had brought them from a cave in Nevada.

Neither of them spoke again. Pedro shook his head and followed as, with grim determination, Scott began to walk across the square.

Matt and Scarlett stood in the shelter of the prison, knowing that they couldn’t leave. Hong Kong was being torn apart by a force so devastating it was as if they had arrived at some chapter in the Bible when all the old prophecies happened and Judgement Day finally arrived.

Smashed buildings and debris were being flung along the street as if they weighed nothing. As they looked out of the broken doorway, a huge neon sign spun past like an oversized playing card. It was followed by a table, several crates, a lawn mower, part of a piano… They had somehow been sucked out of the shops and sent on their way as if they were prizes in some insane TV game show. Matt could actually see the air currents. Mixed with the rain, they had become a thousand grey needles that raced along the streets, slamming into cars and tipping them over, flattening everything in their path.