Dennis Wheatley - Unholy Crusade

The crowd did not disperse and from its centre there came murmurs and movement. Some minutes later Adam learned the cause and that of the grunting he had heard. At the base of the pyramid there was a large crate containing several pigs. Four men, each holding a leg of one of the pigs, were lugging it up the broad flight of steps. It was, like all native bred pigs, not a large animal and, without difficulty, they got it to the top. There they lifted it on to the altar and held it down on its back.

The light from a lantern shimmered on a knife the priest had drawn as he raised it then struck downward. The pig gave a hideous, high pitched squeal, then went on squealing. The priest had not cut its throat but ripped open its breast. A moment later he had torn out its heart and was holding it on high for all to see.

The crowd went nearly mad with excitement.

As the Oles died, the four men swung the now dead pig by its legs and pitched it on to the top of the steps. Spurting blood, it rolled over and over to the bottom, to be seized on eagerly by others who carried it round to the rear of the pyramid. From there a lurid glow had arisen, of the significance of which Adam had no doubt. A big fire had been lit to roast the sacrifice. 'We eat pork tonight.' They would soon be tearing at the hot flesh with their bare hands and gorging it.

A second pig was sacrificed in the same manner. Then, when its body had been carried away, there was a sudden commotion among the spectators. A third pig had escaped when being taken from the crate. Mad with fear, it charged through the people, knocking down several of them. Only seconds later it emerged from the crowd and headed straight for the place where Adam was crouching in the ditch. Almost s one man, the crowd turned and came streaming in pursuit of it.

Aghast at the certainty of discovery. Adam came to his feet and turned to run. In getting out of the ditch he stumbled and fell. He had only just picked himself up when there came screams of `A spy! Seize him! A spy! A spy!' Next moment the crowd was upon him and he was fighting for his life.

CHAPTER 10

A Ghastly Ordeal

FOR the first time since, when a crime reporter in Southampton, Adam had been attacked, he used his great strength to the full. Lashing out right and left with his big fists, he felled two of his attackers, then seized a third round the waist, lifted him high in the air and flung him into the crowd. His whirling body knocked down three more; but the crowd seemed as though possessed by a demon. Screaming with hate, their dark faces transformed into hideous masks, they trampled over their fallen comrades and came at him again.

His arms shooting out like piston rods, he met the attack. Nearly all of them were small, short men, so his height gave him a big advantage and blows from his fists sent one after another reeling. Yet their fanatic urge to pull him down was so strong that, as each of his victims gasped or moaned and toppled over, others took his place.

Breathing hard now and sweating from his exertions, he knew that, unless he could succeed in getting away, his death was certain. They would tear him limb from limb or, perhaps, lug him up to the top of the pyramid and sacrifice him to their evil god, as they had the pigs. But if he ceased to face them, even for a second, and turned to run, they would leap upon his back and hurl him to the ground. So far the fight had lasted barely a minute, but several of them beyond the reach of his punches had run round behind him. At any moment he expected to receive savage blows from them or, worse, the sharp stab of a knife as it was thrust into his back.

In desperation he sprang forward, seized one of them by his long hair, pulled him off his feet and swung him breast high in a scythe like sweep. The man's heavy boots tore great gashes in the faces of the two nearest men. Yelling with pain they went over backwards. For the moment Adam's front was clear. Lifting the man again, he repeated the movement, at the same time swiveling on his heels. He was only just in time. The man's legs smashed into the body of another actually in the act of jumping. Struck in mid air, he curved over sideways and hit the earth with a heavy thump. Behind him were four or five others. Letting go of the screaming man he had used as a weapon, Adam charged them. One got a fist full in the face, another a blow on his Adam's apple, which made his eyes start from his head. He lurched away, vomiting. The others, momentarily cowed as the golden haired giant rushed upon them, panicked and sprang aside. Suddenly Adam realised that he had fought his way free and, with overwhelming relief, raced off down the road as fast as his long legs could carry him.

Howling with execration, the murderous mob streamed in pursuit of him. He had a lead of only a dozen yards, was gasping for breath and aching from a score of blows that had landed on his body; but his stride being so much longer than that of the Indians, he had good hopes of increasing his lead until they tired and he could get clean away.

His heart hammering in his chest, he pounded on, fear lending him new strength. The trampling of a hundred feet behind him made a continuous roar, broken every few seconds by shouts and curses. After two minutes they sounded a little fainter. But he was now streaming with sweat and his lungs seemed near to bursting. Grimly he realised that he could not keep up that pace and that many of his pursuers who had not participated in the fight were fresher than he was. If they continued the chase they must wear him down.

Almost blinded by the sweat that was running down into his eyes, he was following the road and had not even given a glance at the terrain on either side. A swift turn of his head to find out how far ahead of the mob he was showed him that he had entered an area of bushes and small trees. Suddenly it came to him that by diving in among them he could elude the howling human pack. Swerving, he jumped the roadside ditch and dashed into the undergrowth. Next moment his foot caught in a root, he pitched forward and his head hit a rotting tree stump.

Half stunned, he lay where he had fallen. A good half minute had gone before he was sufficiently recovered to stagger to his feet. Once more, in desperate fear for his life, he began to thrust his way through the bushes. But the fall seemed to have driven the last strength from his body. He had not stumbled ten yards before he heard the cracking of small branches in his rear. His brain was in a whirl. It was much darker there than out on the open road. He could no longer see his way and felt utterly exhausted. Brought up short by a small tree, he staggered and fell again. In a matter of seconds, with exultant shouts, the mob was upon him.

A dozen hands grabbed at his clothes, his arms, his hair. With

kicks and curses they dragged him to his feet, then pushed and pulled him back towards the pyramid; but their progress was slow because they were as breathless as he was. Dimly he realised this and for the next few minutes the thought that it might give him another chance germinated in his mind. To recruit his strength, he began to take long, deep breaths.

They had nearly reached the place where he had been attacked when he made his effort. Two men were holding each of his arms but, compared with him, they were puny creatures. Suddenly coming to a halt, he tensed his muscles, threw his weight backwards and wrenched himself free. Seizing the two nearest Indians by the neck, he banged their heads together, then began to strike out, first to one side then to the other.

His blows no longer had their former strength, but several of his captors staggered back from them. Others cannoned into one another in the wild scramble to seize him again. The greater part of the crowd had been shuffling along in his rear and his sudden attack now gave him the chance he had prayed for. To his right front no one barred his path. Drawing a deep breath, he launched himself forward.