37
Nina and Macy reached the vehicles. ‘Oh, Jesus,’ said
Macy at the sight of the dead men. ‘Why are we going after these
guys? We should be trying to get a long, long way away from them!’
Nina ignored her,
running to the Nissan Patrol. Eddie had left the key in the
ignition. ‘If you don’t want to come with me, then wait
here.’
‘No, no, I’m coming,’
said Macy, the presence of the corpses making her decision easier.
She got in beside Nina. The redhead turned the key, then guided the
big off-roader down the hill.
Pachac looked at his
phone again. Still no signal. Once he got into range of the cell
tower, though, he would be able to call in more men within hours.
The True Red Way had an active membership of close to a hundred,
and several times as many sympathisers. It would be tough to remove
the Punchaco before government forces reacted, but the longer he
could prevent word of El Dorado’s existence from getting out the
better . . .
The road narrowed at
a bend beneath an overhang of rock ahead – with a truck coming the
other way.
‘Mother of God!’ the
driver blurted as he braked hard. Maoism and religion may not have
been complementary, but some things were too deeply ingrained to
remove. Both vehicles stopped. He leaned out of the window. ‘Hey!
Back up!’
The sweating,
overweight truck driver scowled at him. Under the unwritten rules
of the mountain road, the bigger vehicle always had right of way.
‘You back up!’
‘We don’t have time
for this shit,’ Pachac growled, drawing a gun and firing it out of
his window. The truck’s windscreen shattered. ‘Get out of my way or
I’ll kill you!’
The terrified driver
decided that unwritten rules were made to be broken and put his
truck into reverse, backing up as quickly as he dared. ‘Move,’
Pachac told his own driver. The H3 set off again, almost nose to
nose with the lumbering transport. The road widened round the bend,
and the driver moved to let the convoy pass.
Even as far over as
the truck could possibly go, the gap was actually a few centimetres
narrower than the Hummer, nothing but air beneath the rims of its
left-side tyres. Pachac’s driver cringed as he edged past the
truck, looking down at the near-vertical drop into the clouds
below. The H3’s chromed wing mirror scraped against the other
vehicle’s cab, and broke off. The driver gave his leader an
apologetic look. ‘Maybe we should have stolen something
smaller?’
‘Just get going,’
Pachac snapped once they were clear.
Eddie saw a bright
yellow Hummer disappear round the overhang about a quarter of a
mile ahead, another two vehicles trundling in a line behind it: an
old Land Cruiser and a big American pickup truck. Pachac and his
men.
He put his foot down,
the Jeep jolting over the rutted road. He would soon catch
up.
The Land Cruiser
slowly followed the Hummer. Even though it was several inches
narrower than the American behemoth, its two occupants still tensed
as they crawled along less than a hand’s-width from the precipice’s
ragged edge. Next, the pickup truck squeezed through, the rebel in
the cargo bed leaning out and shouting instructions to the two men
in the cab.
The F-150 disappeared
from Eddie’s view behind the overhanging cliff. The time the larger
vehicles had taken to squeeze past the obstruction meant that he
was now almost upon them.
He slowed to pass the
stationary truck, then readied the Kalashnikov.
‘There he is!’ Macy
cried, pointing ahead.
Nina saw the Jeep go
out of sight around a narrow bend. ‘I just hope we can reach him
before he gets himself killed,’ she said, guiding the Patrol in
pursuit.
The man in the
F-150’s pickup bed looked back along the road - and saw a military
Jeep coming after them. Fast. He banged on the cab’s rear window.
‘Hey! He’s catching up – tell Inkarrí!’
He drew his gun, an
old Colt .38 revolver, as the passenger used a walkie-talkie to
relay the message to the Hummer.
Pachac listened to
the urgent radio report, twisting in his seat. The Land Cruiser
filled most of the view behind, but the road’s curves gave him a
glimpse of what was happening beyond.
He didn’t like what
he saw. ‘What are you waiting for?’ he shouted into his radio.
‘Kill him!’
Eddie saw the Ford
pickup slowing, its occupants getting ready to attack. One man in
the back, holding on to the F-150’s rollbar, and from the
silhouettes it looked like two in the cab.
No rifles; they must
have lost them in the flood. The guy in the rear bed was instead
taking aim with a pistol—
The Englishman had
something bigger. He fired the AK-47 through the broken
windscreen.
The rebel got off
three shots, but firing single-handed from a jolting vehicle didn’t
even hit the speeding Jeep, never mind its driver. Eddie’s shooting
was just as wild – but with far more bullets. One clanged off the
pickup’s tailgate, another cracking the rear window – and a third
tore into the gunman’s chest in a gout of blood. The man fell
backwards, his clothing catching on one of the rollbar’s lamp
brackets to leave him hanging against the cab, the revolver
clattering to the metal floor.
But the passenger in
the front was bringing up an automatic. Eddie fired
again—
Two shots – and the
Kalashnikov’s bolt stopped with a dry clack. Out of ammo.
He dropped the AK and
ducked as the rebel fired. More bullets struck the Jeep, shattering
a headlight, ripping another hole through the already damaged
radiator with a shrill of escaping steam.
And hitting a
wheel.
The tyre didn’t blow
out, the thick, heavily treaded rubber only holed, but the effect
on the Jeep was immediate. The steering wheel jerked in Eddie’s
hands as the vehicle pulled to the left, towards the cliff. He
dragged it back into line. But the vibration grew worse as the tyre
deflated, the 4×4 harder to control with every second.
The shooting stopped.
Eddie raised his head. The gunman was fumbling for a replacement
magazine.
The Jeep swerved back
towards the precipice. He forced the steering wheel hard over to
the right, but the tyre was almost flat, weaving on the wheel rim.
A few more seconds and it would collapse . . .
He snatched up the
empty AK-47 and jammed its stock down on the accelerator. The Jeep
surged forward, engine screaming. He wedged the rifle’s barrel
against the front seat and jumped up, gripping the steering wheel
in one hand as he clambered over the broken windscreen on to the
bonnet.
The man in the cab
had slapped in a new magazine. He turned to fire—
Eddie lined up the
Jeep with the pickup, and let go of the wheel as his vehicle rammed
the Ford from behind.
He was flung over the
tailgate into the cargo bed – and slammed against the corpse
hanging from the rollbar. The breath was knocked from him, but the
body cushioned his landing, the damaged rear windscreen behind it
shattering and spraying the gunman in the cab with glittering
fragments.
Eddie dropped heavily
into the pickup bed, the angular body of the Steyr inside his
jacket digging painfully into his ribs. The revolutionary shook off
broken glass and turned again to find his target—
Eddie grabbed the
fallen revolver and fired three shots at the cab’s back
wall.
Bullets ripped
through the rebel’s seat into his body. He fell against the
passenger-side door, which burst open. He rolled out of the cab
with a shriek of terror that was cut short as he was crushed under
the wheels of the still speeding Jeep.
The 4×4 swerved
sharply as it bounded over the human speed bump, veering at the
cliff—
‘No!’ Nina screamed as she watched the Jeep sail
off the road and arc down into the valley. ‘Eddie, oh my
God!’
‘He’s okay, he’s
okay!’ Macy desperately reassured her. ‘He jumped into the
truck!’
‘He what? Oh, Jesus
Christ . . .’ Nina gasped for breath, the horror of what she
thought she had just witnessed still clutching at her
heart.
Eddie pulled himself
up and pointed the revolver into the cab. ‘Stop the truck!’ he
yelled at the driver.
The rebel instead
clawed inside his wet, grubby jacket. Eddie pulled the
trigger—
Click. The hammer fell, but the gun didn’t go off.
All the bullets in the cylinder had been fired.
The driver drew his
own gun, twisted—
Eddie dropped and
rolled as the rebel opened fire. Unable to turn any further without
risking losing control of the truck, the driver unleashed a couple
more shots blindly over his shoulder. One hit the floor as Eddie
jerked out of the way, the other blasting messily through the
dangling corpse’s stomach.
Eddie flipped the
useless revolver over in his hand. He scrambled forward and lunged
through the broken rear window, brutally cracking the empty gun
against the driver’s head like a knuckleduster.
The man reeled, the
pickup swerving to the right. Before he could recover, Eddie
grabbed his gun hand and slammed it against the window frame,
rasping his wrist against the broken glass. The driver yelled in
pain and fired again, forcing Eddie to duck – but not before he
pushed the weapon’s magazine release button. The automatic’s slide
locked back as the mag clattered into the cargo bed.
The driver pulled the
trigger twice more, getting nothing but metallic clicks in
response. By the time he realised his gun was empty Eddie had
shoved the corpse over the truck’s side and reached into the cab to
hook an arm round his neck. Choking, the driver struggled to break
free – then saw that the truck was heading for the side of the
little wooden bridge. He yanked at the steering wheel—
The F-150 lurched,
tilting on its suspension and throwing Eddie sideways. He lost his
hold on the driver and reeled across the cargo bed, almost falling
out before grabbing the rollbar.
The passenger door
swung open and hit the bridge’s fence with a huge bang. It was
ripped away, spinning backwards. The mangled metal scythed past
Eddie, slashing the back of his jacket.
The driver regained
control, straightening out. Eddie was about to attack again when he
saw something ahead – something that hadn’t been there when the
expedition drove up the road. A waterfall spewed down the hillside
from high above, pounding the road in a swirling cloud of
spray.
He gripped the
rollbar tightly as the truck drove through the torrent, crashing
across the newly created dip where the muddy track had been washed
over the cliff. The driver fought with the wheel as the pickup
skidded.
Eddie saw his chance.
If he got into the cab through the missing door, he could use the
Steyr to kill the driver and immediately take the wheel before the
F-150 went out of control.
He drew the gun from
his jacket and climbed over the pickup’s side.
The Nissan rounded a
bend. ‘Where the hell did that come from?’ Macy gasped, seeing the
new waterfall.
Nina looked up for
its source. There was only one possible explanation: when the river
feeding the falls concealing El Dorado had been blocked, the water
rose behind the dam . . . and was now finding other ways downhill.
‘Oh God,’ she said in alarm. ‘This whole valley might
flood!’
Eddie swung into the
cab, aiming the Steyr at the driver—
The Peruvian hurled
his empty gun.
Eddie jerked his head
sideways, but the automatic struck his cheek hard enough to draw
blood and knocked him backwards. The Steyr dropped into the
footwell as he grabbed at the dashboard, missed, toppled through
the gaping doorway . . .
His hand clamped
round the seatbelt.
It didn’t stop him.
The reel unwound, pitching him out of the truck—
Thunk!
The seatbelt’s
inertial lock mechanism activated, yanking him to a stop. One hand
clutching the belt, Eddie dangled out of the open door, his back
almost parallel to the ground.
Grinning
sadistically, the driver turned the wheel to smear him against the
rock wall.
Eddie grabbed with
his free hand for the seatbelt, the door frame, anything – but
there was nothing within reach. The cliff face rushed past, getting
closer . . .
Something sticking
out of the ground, right ahead—
He snatched up the
wooden cross and hurled it into the cab.
The driver had turned
to watch Eddie’s head hit the wall – but instead took the pointed
stake in his left eye. He screamed, reflexively bringing up both
hands to pull out the cross. The F-150 swerved away from the wall –
and towards the precipice.
The change of
direction swung Eddie into reach of the doorframe. He hauled
himself inside. The rebel was still screaming, one hand pressed to
his face as blood gushed from his eye socket. The truck jolted over
the road’s crumbling edge—
Eddie grabbed the
wheel. The Ford lurched back across the track, throwing the driver
against his door. Flailing for balance, he looked across the cab
with his remaining eye – to see Eddie twist in the passenger seat
and slam both feet against his chest.
The battered
vehicle’s door flew open, the rebel shooting out of it like a
cannonball. With an echoing wail, he vanished into the
abyss.
Eddie pulled himself
across and took the controls, rounding the next bend to see the
Land Cruiser and the Hummer ahead. He shut the door, groped for the
Steyr, then accelerated after them.
A radio crackled on
the parcel shelf, a voice speaking in Spanish. Pachac.
Pachac looked back at
the F-150. Only one figure was visible inside it. ‘Mateo, did you
get him? Mateo!’
The reply was in
English, almost calm despite the struggle that had just taken
place. ‘No. He didn’t. He’s dead. And Pachac?’
The terrorist leader
exchanged a worried look with his driver before answering.
‘What?’
‘You’re
next.’
Pachac stared at the
walkie-talkie, then yelled orders to his men in the Land Cruiser.
This time, there was no anger in his voice, only fear. ‘Stop him!
Kill him! Kill him!’
Eddie dropped the
radio, eyes fixed on the two 4×4s ahead. The Land Cruiser was
falling back from the H3. He could see two men inside it, the
passenger climbing over the seats into the cargo
space.
He also glimpsed the
unmistakable silhouette of an AK-47 in the rebel’s
hands.
The Steyr was wedged
under his thigh. He pulled it out and switched it to his left hand.
The Toyota was still slowing. The tailgate hatch swung up, the man
inside aiming his AK out of it—
Eddie fired his
remaining bullets from the side window as he accelerated. The
revolutionary ducked for cover behind the lower half of the
tailgate. By the time he realised the shooting had stopped and
looked up again, the F-150 had caught up—
The Ford slammed into
the back of the Land Cruiser. The driver’s head whiplashed
backwards as he let go of the controls - and the 4×4 swerved
towards the rockface. The man in the back was thrown against the
side wall.
Eddie saw an opening
and swung to pass the Toyota on the outside. The pickup drew
alongside the off-roader. The Ford’s left wheels were less than a
foot from the cliff-edge.
The Land Cruiser’s
driver shook off his pain and grabbed the wheel, turning hard to
sidewipe the F-150—
Eddie did the same
thing, trying to ram the Toyota into the hillside. The vehicles
clashed together with a crunch of crumpling metal. Eddie’s truck
was more powerful, but the Japanese 4×4 was heavier. He turned the
wheel harder, but the rebels were bullying him inch by inch towards
the precipice.
And the man in the
back was raising his rifle again.
Death by fall, or by
firepower—
Eddie braked hard –
then swerved at full throttle to smash into the Toyota’s back
quarter as it pulled ahead. The 4×4 slewed around, almost side-on
to the pickup’s blunt nose, before its right rear corner struck the
hillside and it abruptly swung back, hitting the rock wall side-on
like a door being slammed. The F-150 shot past, ripping off the
Land Cruiser’s front bumper.
A glance in the
mirror told Eddie that it wasn’t out of the hunt, though. It
bounced back across the road, right side caved in, then the driver
caught the skid and turned back into pursuit.
The Hummer was not
far ahead, its driver being cautious on the dangerous road. Eddie
switched his attention back and forth between Pachac’s vehicle and
the one in the mirror. Even though he was gaining on the H3, he
wouldn’t reach it before the Land Cruiser caught up with
him.
An AK poked out of
one of the Toyota’s left-side windows. Eddie moved as far over to
the right as he could to deny the rebel a clear shot. But the
road’s curves meant it would only be a matter of time before he was
exposed.
Still closing on the
Hummer. Beyond it, he recognised the scenery: they were coming up
to where the landslide had deposited tons of mud and stones on the
road, the waterfall gushing on to the rubble. The H3 would have to
slow to negotiate it – but so would he.
The
waterfall—
It had grown
enormously since the morning. The stream was now much wider, more
powerful.
Realisation of the
new threat struck him like the force of the water itself. The
flood, caused by the blocking of the river, was building up above,
and could overflow at any moment . . .
The Hummer reached
the landslide and lurched over the rubble. Eddie speeded up. The
Land Cruiser followed suit, still gaining.
Gunfire—
Eddie ducked as
bullets clanged off the bodywork behind him. He was almost at the
landslip. More shots. The H3 entered the waterfall, spray kicking
up from its flat roof. He lined up the F-150 with the ruts carved
by other vehicles and pushed the accelerator to the floor. He
needed all the momentum he could get—
All four of the
Ford’s wheels left the ground as it hit the blockage, then crashed
back down with a squeal of poorly maintained suspension. It veered
towards the drop, Eddie struggling to bring it back into the ruts.
Rocks pounded at the tyres, throwing him about in his seat. Despite
his best efforts, he was losing speed. The Land Cruiser grew in the
mirror, the gunman firing again.
He had almost reached
the waterfall—
No. The waterfall had
almost reached him.
It grew wider even as
he watched, its edge sweeping along the defoliated swathe of the
cliff above. Stones tumbled down the mountainside.
The river was about
to burst its banks—
The F-150 plunged
into the waterfall. The torrent exploded into the cab through the
missing door, the force of the water throwing the truck sideways.
Eddie frantically spun the steering wheel, trying to turn back
towards the cliff-face. He couldn’t see anything, froth
obliterating all vision. All he had left was his sense of balance,
which told him the truck was tipping over as it slid closer to the
edge of the road . . .
The sickening feeling
of being about to fall suddenly faded. He had somehow found
traction in the mud. He didn’t know why, but took advantage of his
apparent luck, applying more power. The truck levelled
out.
The deluge eased,
giving him a rippling, distorted view through the windscreen. The
Hummer was a yellow shimmer ahead. He looked back – and saw where
the extra grip had come from. The pickup bed was full of water,
putting well over a ton of extra road-hugging weight on to the rear
wheels.
Water sloshed around
his feet. He opened the door to let it gush out. The truck was
struggling, but continued its lumbering journey.
He emerged from the
falls. The Hummer was still negotiating the remains of the
landslide. A loud bang from behind, and the F-150 shook violently –
he thought a tyre had exploded, until he saw that the tailgate had
burst open, the trapped water sluicing out of the
back.
A dark shape emerged
from the downpour in the mirror. The Land Cruiser was right behind
him. The gunman leaned from the window again, AK
raised—
A new noise from
above, a colossal ground-shaking boom as the weight of millions of
gallons of trapped water finally overwhelmed the earth containing
it.
The waterfall Eddie
had just passed through was barely a trickle compared to the wave
that surged over the hilltop. Thousands of tons of soil and
boulders were swept down the cliff into the valley
below.
Eddie floored the
accelerator, aiming the Ford at the Hummer. Shadows swelled around
him as the great mass of muddy water descended like a
shroud.
It hit the road,
blasting away the debris of the landslide as if jet-washing the
mountain. A massive rock flattened the Land Cruiser and the two
rebels inside it, what little was left of the vehicle whirling away
into the maelstrom. More stones hit the pickup like meteorites. The
windscreen shattered as the roof buckled under the
impacts.
A swelling, churning
wave snatched up the F-150. Fear froze Eddie’s heart as he thought
he was being flung to his death into the void – then he realised he
was being carried along the road, not
off it, the water finding a ready-made channel down which to run.
But he was out of control, the truck tossed like a cork on the
wavecrest . . .
A flash of
yellow—
The pickup hit the
Hummer. Both vehicles slewed round, wheels scraping sidelong over
the road as the water swept them along. For an instant, Eddie found
himself looking straight at Pachac, the Maoist leader staring back
at him wide-eyed through the H3’s window.
Then the Hummer
slipped away – and went over the edge.
Eddie had no time to
rejoice, or think about anything but his own survival. The steering
wheel jerked in his hands as the pickup was carried down the track.
If the tyres could find enough grip for him to steer, just for a
second, he could try to wedge the F-150 against the
hillside—
He didn’t get the
second he needed, or even close. The current whirled the truck
round. The front wheels dropped sharply, the pickup hanging briefly
on the brink . . . then the sodden soil collapsed beneath it and
pitched it over the cliff.