Andy McDermott - The Midas Legacy

‘Oh yeah,’ Nina said, pained. The bulky device had jammed hard into her side inside the crate.

They hurried into the passageway. Eddie peered through the hole. The first thing he saw was the dead mercenary transfixed upon the horns of an aggrieved yak, which was doing its best to shake off the corpse. ‘Guess he was feeling horny.’

‘Oh God,’ Nina groaned. ‘I haven’t missed those for the past three years.’

‘What?’

‘ Quips .’

‘Black humour’s a perfectly valid coping mechanism for dealing with death and horror,’ said Eddie, straight-faced. Nina gave him a suspicious look. ‘What? I did some reading. Come on.’

The ground was about ten feet below. He started to climb out, but stopped when he saw the helicopter down the slope. The large Crucible was being manoeuvred into its cabin by two men. One he guessed was the pilot; the other was one of the mercenaries, a Kalashnikov slung across his back. ‘Arse! Can’t go that way — there’s no cover. And I don’t think we’d outrun them on a yak.’

Noises from the corridor made Nina look around. ‘Someone’s coming!’

Eddie forced open the damaged door. ‘In here.’

‘But it’s a dead end!’

His expression told her that he was well aware of the fact. The furnace was still alight, propane burners roaring and the glow of molten metal coming from the Crucible atop it, but there was no sign of the monk who had been in the room earlier. ‘Where is he?’ Eddie said.

Nina glanced towards the anteroom containing the golden treasures. ‘He must be in there.’

Her husband went to it. ‘It’s padlocked.’ He frowned. ‘But the main door was bolted from inside …’

Neither had time to consider that any further as said door burst open and one of the mercenaries rushed in, AK at the ready.

Eddie threw himself behind a bench bearing the recently cast gold bar. Nina was still in the open, the furnace the only nearby cover. She ran for it—

The man fired as she dived, a bullet striking the ceramic Crucible. Blobs of luminous metal sprayed from its open neck. Nina screamed as one burned through her coat sleeve, managing to shake off the searing droplet before it ate into her flesh.

The Nepali ran around the furnace to find his target on the floor behind it, clutching her scorched arm. He took aim—

‘Oi!’

He turned at the shout — and was hit in the face by twelve kilograms of gold. Teeth cracked, his upper lip bursting open. He fell, the thrown gold bar thunking down beside him.

Nina rolled clear as Eddie vaulted the bench and charged at the downed man. If he could get the rifle…

It swung towards him — but he booted it from the mercenary’s hand. He moved to stamp on his opponent’s head, only for the man to kick his knee. Eddie staggered, toppling towards the blazing gas jets—

He twisted as he fell, barely missing the burners and landing heavily beside the furnace. A still-molten glob of gold sizzled on the stone, close enough for him to feel the intense heat on his cheek. He rolled away, but the Nepali had already jumped to his feet. He slammed a boot into Eddie’s chest, then aimed a second kick at his groin. Eddie thrust himself backwards to take the impact on his thigh instead. He kept retreating, fending off more strikes, but came to an abrupt stop against one of the banks of shelves.

The Nepali snatched up a set of long iron tongs and swung them at the downed Yorkshireman. Eddie whipped up both arms to protect his head. Metal struck his forearm, painfully paralysing his left hand.

The man drew back to hit him again — then realised that his gun had landed not far away. He threw the tongs at Eddie and darted for the Kalashnikov.

Nina scrambled back upright, seeing him snatch up his gun—

She kicked the furnace, hard. It fell over, the Crucible hitting the floor with a ringing note and splashing its glowing contents across the stone slabs.

The molten gold gushed around the mercenary’s feet. At over a thousand degrees Centigrade, the liquid metal instantly melted the soles of his boots and set his clothing aflame. He fell backwards with an anguished screech, landing in the searing pool. There was a sizzling crackle of burning cloth and flesh as the man was suddenly wreathed in fire, limbs flailing for a couple of seconds before every nerve in his spinal cord was burned to blackened ash.

Nina jumped back, rounding the overturned furnace to drag Eddie clear. ‘Jesus! Are you hurt?’

‘Won’t be juggling for a while,’ he growled, cradling his aching left arm. ‘Where’s the gun?’

The Kalashnikov had landed in a tongue of superheated gold. ‘Getting blinged up.’

‘Great.’ A shout came from outside. ‘Shit, more of them!’

‘What’re we gonna do? There’s no way out of here.’

Eddie surveyed the walls. ‘The room was locked from inside, so there must be…’ His eyes fixed upon a cabinet in one corner. Behind it, about five feet up, a wooden beam was set into the stone wall. A lintel? ‘A secret door!’

He ran to it, Nina behind him. ‘This isn’t a haunted house,’ she said, unconvinced.

‘You’ve never heard of a priest hole?’ He strained to pull the cabinet away from the wall.

‘Monks aren’t priests.’

‘All right, a bloody monk hole!’

‘ You’re a monk hole!’ She helped him swing the old cupboard aside, revealing a squat opening behind it. ‘Oh. Okay. You were right.’

‘Apology accepted,’ he said with a pained grin. Beyond the little doorway was a narrow passageway. Eddie peered down it, seeing the foot of a ladder at the end. ‘It’s clear!’

They ducked through the opening. The ladder ascended to a trapdoor. Eddie cautiously raised it, recognising the interior of a building they had passed through to reach the cliff path. The way back towards the main gate was blocked by fire, the conflagration spreading.

He climbed out, left hand still numb. ‘We’ll have to get out through the tower.’

‘There’s no way down to the ground from there!’ Nina protested.

‘Maybe not, but you’ll be able to use the satphone once we’re outside.’ They ran from the flames.

The second of the brothers rushed into the furnace room. ‘Hermanga!’ he called — then saw the burning figure lying in the spilled gold. A moment of shock… followed by a scream of anguish as he realised the body was that of his twin. He stood shaking for a moment, before spotting the hidden door. Roaring obscenities, he ran after his brother’s killers.

Axelos retreated into the courtyard, looking back at the string of buildings as smoke and flames advanced along them like a lit fuse. He had reached as far as the prayer wheel hall before deciding that heading any deeper into the monastery would be suicide. The twins, however, had gone in pursuit of Wilde and her husband, leaving only one man with him. ‘We’re pulling out,’ he said into his walkie-talkie. ‘Everyone back to the helicopter, now.’

He waited several seconds, but there was no response. A faint shake of his head: amateurs . That was what happened when you rushed into a mission without the right people. ‘Let’s go,’ he told the remaining Nepali.

The man gestured towards the outbuildings. ‘Monks in there. Kill them?’

‘No. Enough people have died already.’ He regarded the bodies sprawled outside the debate house with regret. What should have been a straightforward operation had turned, to use an American expression he particularly liked, into a cluster-fuck. He headed for the gate, bringing up the radio again. ‘Collins! Is the Crucible loaded?’

‘Just secured it,’ the helicopter pilot replied. ‘Did you get the other one?’