Dennis Wheatley - Unholy Crusade

Letting out a long drawn howl, he slumped back on to the Chac Mool, but the staff snapped off short. At the same moment, the other priest ran in, stabbing upwards with his knife at Adam's heart. With not the fraction of a second to spare, he swerved aside. The blade ripped through his robe and the man's evil, painted face came to within an inch of his. Seizing the man's wrist, Adam gave it a savage twist. The knife fell with a clatter on the stone flags. Still holding the priest by the wrist, Adam swung him round and away. Bringing up his right foot, he kicked him hard in the crotch and let him drop.

Trembling from the violence of his exertions and nearly exhausted by the terrible fight he had been through, Adam turned on his heel to see Chela and Hunterscombe standing side by side.

`Come on, chum!' the Wing Commander shouted. `Into their old kite before these devils get us all.' Then he and Chela began to run towards the helicopter.

There came the crack of a pistol. Chela staggered, seemed to trip, then, with out flung arms, pitched forward on her face.

Adam had believed Alberuque to be dead. But he was not. When, clutching at his wounded side, he had fallen; he had hit his head on one of the big, uneven chunks of stone and knocked himself out. A minute earlier he had come round, managed to get out his pistol and seized the chance to use it. Adam was only a couple of yards away from and behind him. In one bound he reached him, lifted his foot and kicked him hard in the face. The toe of his shoe caught Alberuque on the side of the jaw. With a groan he rolled over and lay still.

Whimpering with pain, Chela had scrambled up, but stood precariously balanced on her left foot. Alberuque's bullet had gone through the calf of her right leg. Hunterscombe was beside her. Putting one arm round her shoulders and the other under her knees, he lifted her and staggered with her to the helicopter.

Adam was about to follow. Checking his stride he turned back. Snatching up Alberuque's pistol, he seized him by the scruff of the neck. Berserk with fury, he shouted at the unconscious man, `You bloody swine! So there's still life in you. But I'll see to it that you're not rescued by your murderous friends. You're coming with us.' Exerting all his remaining strength, he dragged the unconscious Monsignor across the uneven area of tangled stone.

When he reached the helicopter, Hunterscombe had already got Chela into the front seat beside that of the pilot's in which he was sitting; and evidently being familiar with such machines he had got the engine started. Adam heaved Alberuque up on the floor beside them, then scrambled into one of the back seats.

They were none too soon. Hunterscombe's volleys had taken by surprise the men who were swarming up the pyramid, accounted for a number of them and temporarily checked the rest. But, as he turned away, they had come on again. Many of them had pistols. As the helicopter took off, they let fly a hail of bullets at it. arching forward, the Wing Commander cried:

Oh God! I'm hit The helicopter lurched dangerously, then gained height and flew on down the valley.

Adam leaned forward and asked anxiously, `Badly?'

Not… too good,' Hunterscombe grunted. `Got me through the back. But this kite's easy to fly. No need to fuss.' only partially reassured, Adam tried to relax. He felt incredibly tired and was aching all over. Although his height had enabled him for most of the time to keep his face clear of blows, when he had been down one of the priests had given him a kick above the left ear that still made his head sing. Another had struck him in the mouth, so that his lips were bleeding. His legs and body were one mass of bruises from their kicks and his scalp was smarting where one of them had seized and tugged at his hair. Looking back on the fight, he felt that he could count himself lucky that the thugs had not used their knives from the beginning and, in fact, that he was alive at all. He owed that to Chela, who was moaning in the seat in front of him. He could only hope that both her wound and Hunterscombe's were not serious, and that would be able to get them to hospital quickly. With that in mind, after a few minutes he became worried. From the height at which they were flying, the glow coming up from Mexico City was plainly visible; but they were heading away from it, in a north easterly direction. Abruptly he said to Hunterscombe

`What the devil are you up to? We're far enough now from the pyramid not to be shot at. For goodness' sake, turn her round and head pack to the airport.'

The Wing Commander gave a far from gay laugh. `D'you think I'm steering away from the city on purpose? Think again, chum. Those bastards shot away… away most of the controls.' `Good God!' Adam exclaimed in horror. `D'you mean you can't turn her?'

`S'right.'

`Then get her down, man! We're still over the valley. You can land her in any field.'

`Wish I could. But she's stuck on course. Not a hope till we’ve … till we run out of petrol.'

Grimly Adam took in this frightening news. Faced with a fresh

danger, his tiredness suddenly dropped from him. He was tempted to ask Hunterscombe further questions, but refrained because obviously to talk at all was an effort for him, and upon his remaining strength their lives now depended. He alone was capable of landing the helicopter when the petrol did give out; and if he collapsed before then, a crash that might kill them all was a certainty.

The glow from Mexico City faded behind them. Chela continued now and then to give a low moan. She had not spoken since Hunterscombe had lifted her into the machine, so Adam hoped that she was only semi conscious and unaware of their perilous situation. Leaning forward, he found her hand and held it. Alberuque was sprawled on the floor between them, still apparently out from the kick on the side of the jaw that Adam had given him.

They had been in the air for some twenty minutes when Adam suddenly became aware that the angle of their course was bringing them closer to the chain of mountains on the north side of the valley, and that if they continued on it they must either go over or crash into them. With rising apprehension he stared ahead at their rugged silhouette, made visible against the night sky by the moonlight. After another few minutes he discerned a plume of smoke rising from an active volcano. They were almost on a level with the crest and flying straight towards it.

Hunterscombe had seen it, too. Suddenly he said, `This is curtains, unless we can fly over it.'

'How can we,' Adam asked desperately, `if you can't make her fly higher?'

`Simple,' came back the laconic reply. `Push that bloody sky pilot out and she'll lift herself.'

At his suggestion Chela suddenly roused. `No!' she exclaimed. 'No! You can't! You can't! Whatever he has done he is an anointed priest. I shot him to save Adam, but only to wound him. To cause his death deliberately would be the most terrible sacrilege.'

`Couldn't care less,' muttered the Wing Commander. `Unload him, Gordon. It's… our only chance.'

They were rapidly approaching the crater. The decision had to be taken swiftly or it would be too late. Adam looked down at Alberuque. His eyes were open and held abject terror. Evidently he had been shamming unconsciousness for some time and had heard what it was proposed to do with him.

`Get going, damn you,' Hunterscombe's voice came with renewed strength. `Throw the bastard out or we'll all have had it.'

At that moment the helicopter was within fifty feet of the near lip of the volcano. Adam cried, 'O.K.,' and gripped Alberuque by the throat just as he was about to scream for mercy. Chela turned in her seat and pleaded desperately, `Don't, Adam, don't! The Lord Jesus has saved us once and He will again. Any risk is better than that we should have this awful sin on our consciences.'