Necropolis (39 page)

The chairman certainly had no intention of joining them. He was safe here. The Nail could stand up to anything. And it was a spectacular view.

It did trouble him that his plans had somehow gone wrong. The city had been meant to die. That had been the whole idea. But not like this. Indeed, the typhoon might well end up saving many more people than it actually killed because there had been a side effect: The poisonous gases put in place by the Old Ones had been dispersed. The pollution had been swept away. When the storm finally eased off, the people would be able to breathe again.

He didn't know what had happened at Victoria Prison. All the telephone lines were down, and even his mobile didn't work. The whole network must have collapsed. But this devastation couldn't be a coincidence. The girl must have brought it. She was able to predict the weather, so at the very least she must have known it was coming. He had put the boy in with her to taunt her, to show her how completely defeated she had been. Perhaps, all in all, it had been a mistake.

He was holding a bottle of cognac. It had a price tag that made it one of the most expensive in the world, and it had always amused him that there were people dying in some countries because they had no water while he could afford to spend five thousand dollars on a drink he didn't even enjoy. Over the years, most of the chairman's taste buds had died. Nothing he ate or drank had any flavor. If he was killed now, it would hardly matter. Most of him was dead anyway.

But he wasn't going to die. Even if Matt and Scarlett had escaped, there was nowhere for them to go.

The Tai Shan Temple was protected. They wouldn't be able to reach the door. And soon the typhoon would pass. He would begin the search through the wreckage immediately, turning it over brick by brick, and next time he would deal with them at once.

He noticed something out of the corner of his eye. It was a speck in the window. At first he thought it was a bird. No. It was extraordinary. As the chairman watched, it grew larger and larger. It was heading toward him.

It was a ship.

Not a huge ship. A wooden sampan, one of the Chinese sailing boats that were kept moored up in the harbor, to be photographed by tourists. The wind had grabbed it and torn it free. Even as the chairman watched, it was getting closer, rapidly filling up the window frame. He stood there, transfixed by the sight. He thought about running. Perhaps he could still make it to safety. But what was the point? How could he escape something that had been predicted so many years ago?

He would die in an accident that involved a ship.

He died now.

The sampan was thrown at The Nail as if it were a paper dart that had been deliberately aimed. It smashed through the window on the sixty-sixth floor and into the man who stood behind it. At the same time, the wind howled in, scooping up the contents of the room and throwing them out, the files and papers rattling with a sound that was very like applause. The broken body of the chairman went with them, spun once in the air, then plunged down to the pavement below.

Bloodstains on the carpet. A bottle of cognac with its contents gurgling out. A scattering of broken glass.

In the end, that was all that was left.

SIGNAL NINE

There had been a bloody battle inside the Tai Shan Temple. All the bodies had been taken into one of the other chambers, but the evidence was still there in the bullet holes across the walls, rubble and scorch marks from a grenade, a puddle of blood in front of the main altar. One of the porcelain gods was standing with his arms outstretched, but his body now ended at his neck, which was jagged and hollow.

His head was in pieces all around him. Another had lost a hand. It was as if they had tried to take part in the fight and had been crippled as a result.

Jet and Sing had been on their own, waiting for Scarlett and the others to arrive. They had no idea how she had managed to cross Hong Kong —- it would have been impossible now to leave the building —

but they were glad to see her when she walked in. Jet had been wounded. He was holding a dressing against his neck, and his shirt was soaked in blood. Sing was still holding the sword stick that he had used to kill Audrey Cheng. He seemed to be unhurt.

Neither of them had noticed that there was another man in the chamber, hiding underneath the altar. He was one of the chairman's men, and he had been shot twice. It was his blood that was pooling out. He knew he didn't have very long. There was a gun inches from his outstretched hand.

Speaking in Chinese, Lohan demanded a report from his two lieutenants. Quickly, they told him what he wanted to know, and he translated for Matthew and Richard.

"There were many people waiting here," he said. "They would have killed you if you had tried to reach the door. But they have all been dealt with."

"Then let's get out of here," Richard said. He turned to Matt. "It's time to go."

Lohan walked forward and shook Scarlett's hand. "Good luck," he said. "The journey that we made together just now is something that I will never forget."

"I'm glad I met you, Lohan," Scarlett said. "Thank you for helping me." She had relaxed a little, but Matt could see that she was still concentrating, keeping the typhoon at bay. She had to stay in control. While she was inside the temple, the wind and the rain were barely touching its walls.

The door with the five-pointed star was in front of them. It seemed so small and ordinary that it was hard to believe that it would lead them, not outside and into the storm but to anywhere in the world.

"So where are we going, Matt?" Jamie asked.

The dying man had fumbled for the gun. From where he was lying, he could only see the two boys and the Chinese man who had arrived with them. The girl was standing right behind and the other man was somewhere out of sight. He could probably take out at least two of them before he was killed himself.

He had decided that was what he would do. After all, it was the reason he was here.

Which one first?

The boy who had just asked the question — the one with the long hair and the American accent — was direcdy in his sight. Slowly, the man took aim. The boy was only a few steps away. The man's hand was sticky with his own blood. The gun was covered in it. But he knew exactly what he was doing. There was no way he was going to miss…

The door with the five-pointed star opened.

Scott, with Pedro right behind him, burst into the temple. Jamie opened his mouth to speak. Matt was gazing in surprise. What had seemed impossible for so long had finally happened. The Gatekeepers had come together. They were all here, in the same space.

Scott. Jamie. Matt. Pedro. And Scarlett.

The Five.

But Scott hadn't stopped. He ran forward and threw himself at his brother, knocking him aside.

A second later, there was a gunshot.

Lohan acted with lightning speed. His own gun was in his hand instantly and he fired five times, the bullets strafing underneath the altar. The man who had been concealed there was killed before he could fire again.

Richard saw that Jamie was all right. Somehow Scott had known and had arrived in time to save him.

But then Matt cried out.

The shot had missed Jamie, but Scarlett had been standing right behind him. She had been hit in the head and the wound was a bad one. Blood was pouring down the side of her neck. She toppled sideways.

Richard caught her before she hit the floor.

As she lost consciousness, the whole world exploded.

The typhoon had been kept at bay for too long. Now, as if recognizing what had happened, it fell on the Tai Shan Temple with all its strength. It was like being hit by a bomb, but in slow motion. As the nine of them stood there — the five Gatekeepers with Richard, Lohan, Jet, and Sing — the whole building disintegrated around them. The roof was the first to go, torn off as if by a giant hand. Green tiles came crashing down. The wind roared in. Then one of the walls buckled and collapsed, the huge stones toppling forward. For centuries, the gods inside the temple had never seen daylight. Now they were flooded in it as the outside world burst in.

"The door!" Matt shouted.

It was still standing, but it wouldn't be there for long. Once the walls were destroyed, it would all be over. The door would go with them. Even now it might be too late. Jamie had joined his brother. The two of them had already turned toward it. Pedro seemed to be confused, frozen to the spot. Matt reached him and spun him round. Richard was hurrying forward, carrying Scarlett in his arms, limp, her eyes closed. Lohan followed. One of the spinning tiles had hit him and he was cradling his arm. There was no sign now of Jet and Sing. They had disappeared beneath the broken wall.

The door had been built for the Gatekeepers, but each of them could take one companion with them.

Richard was with Scarlett. Lohan was with Matt. There was still a chance they could all get out alive.

There was another explosion, and a great hole suddenly appeared, punched into the wall. Rain and daylight came shafting through. The whole temple was shaking. Scott was the first to reach the door and threw it open. Behind him, the remaining gods were toppling and smashing to pieces on the hard floor.

Pedro was next to him. The others were right behind.

They plunged through just as a last bolt of lightning struck the temple, pulverizing it. The remaining walls were swept away and scattered. Moments later, there was nothing left. Hong Kong Park was empty. And beyond it, Hong Kong itself lay in ruins as the clouds finally parted and the first, small ray of sunlight was allowed through.

SIGNAL TEN

The Necropolis was finished.

Much of it had been destroyed. More than half the skyscrapers had collapsed. Whole streets were buried beneath piles of twisted metal and brickwork that would take years to remove. Scavengers were already hard at work, burrowing into the rubble to find the jewelry — the diamond necklaces and the watches —

that must surely lie beneath.

All over the world, people were waking up to the fact that a catastrophe on a massive scale had occurred.

Twenty-four-hour television news programs were running the first pictures. There would be thousands dead, but at least the survivors would be able to breathe. The poisonous smog that had been suffocating them for so long had been completely swept aside.

Far away, sitting in the ice palace that he had made his home, the King of the Old Ones saw what had happened. He knew that the chairman had failed him. He knew that the Gatekeepers had escaped.

But it didn't matter.

The Five had entered the door without knowing where they were going, so none of them would have arrived in the same place. They would be as far apart now as they had ever been. Worse than that, the door had been disintegrating even as they had passed through it, and the final blast had played one last trick on them. If the five of them had survived the journey, they would find out very soon.

It would be a very long time before they found each other again.

It was enough.

The King of the Old Ones reached out and gave the order that his disciples had been waiting for. He had made the decision. It was time for the end of the world to begin.

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