Matthew Reilly - Temple

Then, with the onset of dusk, Nash decided that the retrieval of the idol had to take priority. The Rangers had been taken away from the chopper and brought over to the ATV, where Race had briefed them on the wet idol incident in the manuscript.

As Race did exactly that, Nash ordered Gaby, Copeland, Doogie and the young German private, Molke, to remain in the citadel.

He had said that it was a necessary part of his plan for seizing the idol to have most of the team stationed inside the citadel when the cats arrived in the village-while he and a few of the Green Berets remained in the ATV, closer to the riverside path that led up to the temple.

Race—who had only just finished briefing the Green Berets on the wet idol incident—was to join them in the citadel immediately.

‘SAT-SN is in,’ Van Lewen said from the computer terminal.

‘Satellite imagery should be coming through any minute now, too.’

‘What’s it say?” Nash said.

‘Take a look,’ Van Lewen said, stepping aside.

Nash stared at the screen in front of him. The image on it showed the northern half of South America:

NATIONAL RECONNAISSANCE OFFICE

EXPEDITED TASK NO. 040199-6754

SAT-SN PRELIMINARY SURVEY

PARAMETERS: 82.00°W-30.00°W; 15.00°N37.00°S

DATE: 5 JAN, 1999 16:59:56 P.M. (LOCAL—PERU)

PNMA

VNZLA ‘,

:-.= - - . - ;,

, BRZL

Lima ’

,

‘, : ‘,.!

, Rio de Janeiro

PRU ‘, , ‘.

,, BLVIAI , ’

PIGGY ‘.,

‘, ;

‘What the hell—?’ Nash frowned.

‘At least the immediate area is all clear…’ Van Lewen said.

‘What’s it all mean?’ Race asked.

Van Lewen said, ‘The straight lines represent the five main commercial air corridors in South America. Basically, Panama acts as a gateway to the continent, with commercial flights usually going direct from there to Lima and Rio de Janeiro and then from those two cities down to Buenos Aires. The grey squares represent aircraft in our quarter outside the regular commercial air corridors.’

Race looked at the screen saw the three clusters of grey squares hovering over the north-western quarter of the continent.

‘What do the letters and numbers mean?’

Van Lewen said, ‘The grey circle just above Cuzco—the one with “NI” written underneath it. It stands for “Nash-One”, our team here at the village. N2, N3 and N4 are our air support choppers, en route to Vilcafor from Panama. But it looks like they’re still a good way out.’

‘What about the other grey squares?’

‘R1, R2 and R3 are Romano’s choppers,’ Nash said.

“But they’re so far to the north,’ Van Lewen said, turning to Nash. ‘How could they have overshot the mark so badly?’

‘They’re lost,’ Nash said. ‘They must have misread the totems.’

Once again, Race wanted to know who this Romano person was, but he just bit his tongue and remained silent.

‘And these?’ Renee said, indicating the three squares out over the ocean on the extreme left of the screen.

“NY1, NY2 and NY3 are U.S. Navy signatures,’ Van Lewen said. ‘The Navy must have a carrier out there somewhere.’

‘No sign of the Stormtroopers?’ Schroeder asked.

‘No,’ Nash said sombrely.

Race’s watch ticked over to five o’clock. With the harsh black storm clouds rolling in overhead, the late afternoon sky had become unusually dark. It might as well have been night.

Nash turned to Van Lewen. ‘How are we for vision?’

‘Satellite imagery will be with us in about sixty seconds.’

‘Delayed or realtime?’

‘Realtime infrared.’

‘Good,’ Nash said. ‘We should be able to get a clear picture of those cats as they come out of the crater and head into the village. You all set?’

Van Lewen stood up. Beside him, Buzz Cochrane and Tex Reichart hefted their M-16s across their chests.

‘Yes, sir,’ Cochrane said, casting a sideways wink at Renee. ‘Cocked, locked and ready to rock.’

Race cringed.

Cochrane leered at the petite German woman with a bully’s confidence. It was as if his gun—dripping with its laser sights, M-203 grenade/grappling hook launcher and barrel-mounted flashlight—and his combat uniform somehow made him Mr. Irresistible.

Race hated him for it.

‘Satellite imagery is coming through,’ Van Lewen said.

At that moment, another computer screen on the wall of the ATV glowed to life.

The image on it was in grainy black-and-white, and at first Race couldn’t tell what it was.

The extreme left-hand side of the screen was completely black. To the right of that was a section of blurry grey hash, and next to that was something that looked like an inverted horseshoe in the centre of which was a series of small square dots and one large round dot near the apex of the horseshoe.

At the base of the screen was a wide band of darker grey. Next to the wide band of dark grey was a small dark boxlike object. Two tiny white blobs moved away from the small box toward the large round dot at the apex of the horseshoe.

And then it hit him.

He was looking at the village of Vilcafor.

The horseshoe shape was the gigantic moat that encircled the village, the dots inside it the huts and the citadel. The large section of blackness on the left was the rocky plateau that housed the temple.

The blurry grey hash—the rainforest between the plateau and the village. And the band of dark grey at the base of the screen—the river itself.

The small dark box beside the river, Race realised, was the ATV in which he now sat, parked alongside the western logbridge.

He looked at the two blobs on the screen hurrying from the ATV to the citadel. Then he spun around and looked out through the door and saw Lauren and Krauss trotting quickly through the fog toward the citadel.

Oh—my—God, he thought.

This was a picture of Vilcafor taken from a satellite hundreds of miles above the earth—in realtime.

This was now.

Nash spoke into his throat mike. ‘Lauren, we’re all set over here. You in yet?’

‘Just a second,’ Lauren’s voice replied over their intercoms.

On the viewscreen, Race saw the two white blobs that were Lauren and Krauss disappear inside the round dot that was the citadel.

“All right. We’re in,” Lauren said. “You sending Will over?’

‘Right now,’ Nash said. ‘Professor Race, you better get on over to the citadel, before it gets fully dark.’

‘Right,’ Race said, moving for the door.

‘Hold it a second…” Van Lewen said suddenly.

Everybody froze.

‘What is it?’ Nash said.

‘We got company.’

Van Lewen nodded at the viewscreen.

Race turned, and on the harsh black-and-white viewscreen saw the dark blob that was the mountain-plateau and the horseshoe-shaped village.

And then he saw them.

They were in the section of blurry grey hash to the left of the horseshoe—the rainforest in between the village and the plateau.

About sixteen of them.

All coming from the direction of the plateau.

Sixteen ominous white blurs each one possessed of a long slinking tail—stealthily making their way through the foliage toward the village.

The rapas.

The thick steel door of the ATV slid along its rail and slammed with a loud thud.

‘They’re early,’ Nash said.

“It’s the storm clouds,” Krauss’s voice said over the speakers.

‘Nocturnal animals don’t use clocks, Doctor Nash, only the level of ambient light around them. If it’s dark enough, they emerge from their hiding holes—“

‘Whatever,’ Nash said. ‘So long as they’re out, that’s all that matters.’