Temple (30 page)

the chasm, carrying the idol in their midst.
They had the idol.
While he was now stranded on the rock tower.
Heinrich Anistaze stood in the centre of Vilcafor with his hands on
his hips. He was pleased with the way the assault on the village
had gone.
The pulse generator had worked perfectly, cutting off any radio
communication between the enemy. The Americans in the ATV had been
neutralised with ease.
And now he had just heard that his assault squad had successfully
retrieved the idol from the Americans up at the temple.
Things were going very well indeed.
There came a shout and Anistaze turned to see the tower squad come
charging out from the riverside path.
The leader of the squad immediately came up to him and presented
him with a doth-enwrapped object.
'Herr Obergruppenf/ihrer,' the man said formally. 'The idol.'
Anistaze smiled.
Once he had managed to climb back up his grappling hook's rope,
Race dashed across the now-deserted clearing in front of the
temple, searching for the Green Berets, if any of them were still
alive.
He found Van Lewen and Cochrane at the ledge which had once held up
the rope bridge.
'Son of a bitch,' he said as he saw the yawning chasm in front of
them. 'They cut the bridge.'
'There's no way off this thing,' Van Lewen said. 'We're
stuck here.'
Just then the black Mosquito helicopter came roaring
past them again, its side-mounted cannons blazing. The
Nazis must have left it behind to finish the job.
Race and the others immediately dived for cover in the
brush. Leaves exploded above their heads, tree trunks shattered
into splinters.
'Fuck a duck!' Cochrane yelled over the roar of the gunfire.
Race peered out at the Mosquito chopper as it hovered above the
chasm, long tongues of fire spewing out from its guns, its long
spindly landing skids dangling beneath its body.
The landing skids.., he thought.
And at that moment, something inside Race clicked—a
kind of fierce determination that he had never known he
possessed.
'Van Lewen!' he called suddenly.
'What!'
'Give me some cover fire!'
'What for?'
'Just get that chopper to hover a little higher, will you!
But don't scare it off!'
'What are you doing?'
'I'm getting us off this rock!'
“ That was good enough for Van Lewen. A second later, he snapped
out from behind the foliage and loosed a volley of fire at the
hovering black chopper.
The Mosquito responded by rising a little higher in the
air and firing back.
Meanwhile, Race was working feverishly with his grappling hook,
unspooling its rope. He looked out at the chopper.
'Get it higher!' he yelled. 'Higher! It's too low!'
Race gauged the distance between him and the chopper.
It was too close to fire the grappling hook from its launcher. He
was going to have to throw it.
He unspooled the rope a little more, keeping it loose so
that when he did throw it, it wouldn't get all tangled up.
'Cochrane!' he shouted. 'Can you swing with that busted leg of
yours?'
'What do you think, Einstein?'
'Then you're no good to me!' Race said fiercely. “You're staying
here. Van Lewen! Give me cover!'
Then, as Van Lewen loosed another burst at the chopper, Race
quickly leapt out of the foliage with the grappling hook hanging
from his hand, and in one fluid mofion he threw it, underhanded,
out at the Mosquito's left-hand landing skid.
He knew as soon as he did it that he'd weighted the throw
perfectly.
The grappling hook sailed through the air toward the hovering
helicopter, reaching the zenith of its arc just as it arrived at
the Mosquito's left landing skid, and then—with a sharp
clink-clink—the hook swung over the landing strut
and looped itself around it twice, clinging to it.
'All right, Van Lewen! Let's go!'
Van Lewen let off a final burst of fire at the chopper before he
ran over and joined Race at the edge of the ledge.
'Grab on,' Race offered Van Lewen his M-16. The gun was tied to the
end of the grappling hook's rope.
Van Lewen took it and gave Race a look. JYou know, you're a lot
braver than most people would give you credit
for.'
'Thanks.'
And with that, Race and Van Lewen pushed themselves off the ledge
and swung—together—across the wide one-hundred-foot chasm, in a
wonderful graceful arc, sus pended from the landing skid of the
hovering attack helicopter!
'Motherfucker…' Buzz Cochrane said as he watched the two of them
swing away from him across the bottomless ravine.
Race and Van Lewen swung up onto the path on the other side of the
chasm, onto their feet. Once they were up, Race quickly disengaged
the grappling hook's rope from his M-16 and let it go.
The chopper above them didn't seem to know where they had gone—it
just wheeled around wildly above the gorge, firing its guns in
frustration, shooting at anything and nothing, while Race and Van
Lewen took off down the spiralling path, heading back toward the
village.
Heinrich Anistaze held the cloth-enclosed package in his hands,
held his breath as he unwrapped it.
'Yes,' he said as he revealed the glistening black idol beneath the
cloth. “Yes…”
Then abruptly he spun on his heel and began walking toward the
eastern log-bridge.
'Demolition team,' he called in German as he walked, 'are those
chlorine charges set yet?'
'Three more minutes, Herr Obergruppenffhrer,“ a man called from
over near the battered ATV.
'Then you've taken three minutes too long,' Anistaze
barked. 'Finish laying them and then meet us at the riven'
'Yes, Obergruppenffihrer.'
Anistaze keyed his radio. 'Herr OberstgruppenfiLhrer?
Do you read me?' Oberstgruppenfidhrer was the highest of all the SS
ranks—-General.
“Yes,' came the reply.
'We have it.'
'Bring it to me.'
'Yes, Oberstgruppenfi3hrer. At once,' Anistaze said as he strode
across the eastern log-bridge and plunged into the
rainforest.
Race and Van Lewen ran down the spiralling path.
They came to the bottom of the crater, hit the fissure, bolted down
its length. Then along the riverside path, guns
up. Mist everywhere.
As Race ran down the path, his radio earpiece suddenly
burst to life:
'—-an Lewen, report. Repeat. Cochrane, Reichart, Van Lewen,
report—'
It was Nash. Their radios were working again. The Nazis
must have turned off their jamming system, or at least taken
it out of range.
Van Lewen spoke as he ran. 'Colonel, this is Van Lewen.
We've lost Reichart and Cochrane is wounded. But the Nazis have the
idol. Repeat. The Nazis have the idol. I have Professor
Race with me now. We're on our way back to the village.'
“You lost the idol?”
'Yes.'
“Get it back,” was all Nash said.
Race and Van Lewen came to the western log-bridge. They stepped
cautiously over it, guns up.
The village was deserted, cloaked in fog. No Nazis in sight. No
rapas either.
Immediately in front of them, they saw the dark shape of the ATV
turned up on its side. To their left, they could see the shadows of
the various buildings of Vilcafor rising out of. the fog.
Van Lewen took a step toward the ATV.
'Colonel… ?' he said.
He was answered by gunfireG-11 gunfire from the three-man Nazi
demolition squad who had been left behind in the village to plant
Anistaze's chlorine charges.
Race dived left, Van Lewen dived right, both of them raising their
M-16s, but it was no use. They couldn't see a thing in this
mist.
Race clambered back to his feet just as he saw a Nazi commando
burst around the side of the ATV, his G-11 raised and ready.
Then suddenly—bam!—a loud, single gunshot rang out from somewhere
behind Race and the Nazi's head just
snapped backwards in a spray of blood and all Race could do was
stare in stunned awe as his assailant fell to the ground,
dead.
'What the ' he turned in the direction of the gunshot.
Suddenly a rapa burst out of the fog right in front of him,
bared its teeth and leapt at his throatb
Barn!
The rapa jolted sideways in mid-flight as it was hit in the side of
the head by another speeding bullet—killed instantly. The big
animal's carcass slid to a halt inches away from Race's feet.
What the hell was going on!
'Professor!' Doogie's voice cut through the mist. “Over
here! Come on! I've got you covered!'
Squinting through the fog, Race caught a glimpse of the
roof of the citadel, and there—perched on top of it with a sniper
rifle pressed against his shoulder—he saw the silhouette of Doogie
Kennedy.
From his position on the roof of the great stone fortress, Doogie
had a great view of the village.
Through the thermal sights of his M-82AIA sniper rifle, he could
see everyone in the town as if it were daytime.
Each figure appeared on his scope as a multicoloured blob—from the
vaguely human-shaped blobs of Race, Van Lewen and the two remaining
members of the German demolition team, to the trapezoidal but
heatless shape of
the ATV; to the ominous, four-legged shapes of the cats.
The cats.
With the disappearance of the Nazi troops and their weaponry, the
cats were now free to move throughout the village again.
They were back. And they were looking for blood.
Race spun where he stood, saw Van Lewen standing over by the
upturned ATV.
“Professor, get out of here!' the Green Beret sergeant
yelled.
'Doogie'll cover you! I've got to get this thing upright
again!'
Race didn't have to be told twice. He immediately hurried off
through the village, surrounded by fog. As soon as he did so,
however, he heard quick muddy footsteps splashing through the
greyness behind him.
Getting closer, gaining on him.
And then suddenly—bamsmacksplat.
It was the sound of another of Doogie's gunshots—barn— followed by
the sound of the bullet smacking into one of the
Nazis—smack—followed by the sound of the Nazi hitting the
ground—splat.
Another rapa slid out in front of him, prepared to pounce—bam!—its
head just exploded, nailed by Doogie.
The rapa's body began to convulse. Barn! Barn! Barn! Barn!
Barn! The body went still.
Race couldn't believe it.
It was like navigating your way through a fog- enshrouded maze
while being protected by a guardian angel. All he could do was just
keep running—keep moving forward—while Doogie took care of the
dangers all around him, dangers which he himself couldn't
see.
He heard more muddy footsteps—heavier this time—the four-legged
variety.
Barn.
Smack.
Splat.
Up on the citadel, Doogie swore.
That last hit had run him dry. He was out of ammo. He ducked behind
the parapet and frantically began to reload.
Over by the river, Van Lewen hung from the underside of the
upturned ATV, heaving on it with all his weight, conscious of the
fact that there were rapas out there in the mist behind him.
'Get your weight up higher!” he called to Nash and the others
inside the vehicle. 'We've got to tip it over!'
They moved instantly and almost immediately the ATV— already
precariously balanced on its side—began to tip over.
Van Lewen quickly scurried out of its way, just as— whump—the big
eight-wheeler landed on its tyres and he hurried for the door on
its side.
Race was still running hard through the mist when sud denly, like a
curtain being drawn to reveal a stage, the veil of fog before him
parted and he beheld the citadel.
It was then that he heard the clack-clack of a safety being
released on a G-11 somewhere nearby and he froze and slowly
turned—and saw the last Nazi commando standing in the fog behind
him, his G-11 aimed squarely at Race's head.
Race waited for the now-familiar report of Doogie's sniper rifle.
But it never came.
Why wasn't he firing anymore?
And then abruptly there came an almighty roar, which
Race translated as the roar of one of the cats.
But it wasn't the roar of a cat.
It was the roar of an engine.
The next instant, the ATV came exploding out of the mist and
slammed into the Nazi commando's back.
The Nazi fell, crushed beneath the big all-terrain vehicle, and
even Race himself had to dive out of the way as the ATV rumbled
past him and skidded to a halt in front of the citadel—stopping
right in front of the fortress's entrance, aligning itself so that
its sliding left-hand door opened flush onto the citadel's
doorway.
A second later, Race saw the rear hatch of the ATV pop open and Van
Lewen's head appear.
'Hey, Professor, you coming or what?'
Race leapt up onto the back of the vehicle and dived head-first
into its hatch. No sooner was he inside than Van Lewen slammed the
steel hatch shut behind him with a loud resounding thud.
'They got the idol,' Van Lewen said, sitting on the floor of the
citadel, surrounded by the others, in the half-light of their
flashlights. The open door of the ATV was behind him, completely
filling the wide stone doorway of the citadel.
'Fuck,' Lauren said. 'If they get that thyrium to a workable
Supernova we're screwed, o .'
“What are we going to do?' Johann Krauss said.
“We're going to get it back,' Nash said flatly.
'But how?' Troy Copeland said.
'We have to go after them now,” Van Lewen said. 'They're at their
most vulnerable right now. They came here to grab the idol and
then, presumably, take it back to wherever it is they're keeping
their Supernova. But on a snatch-and-grab mission like the one they
just pulled, you're at your most
vulnerable when you're in transit from the target objective.'
'So where is their home base?'
'It has to be close,' Race said firml} surprising everyone with his
conviction, including himself. 'Judging by the way they got
here.'
'And how exactly did they get here, Professor?'
Copeland said disbelievingly.
'I don't know for sure,' Race said, 'but I think I can make a
pretty good guess. One, they got here using a method of transport
that avoided detection by your fancy SAT-SN network, so they didn't
fly. Two, aside from flying and travelling on foot, what's the
quickest and easiest way to get a force of about thirty men through
the rainforest?“
'Oh, damn, why didn't I think of that…' Lauren said.
'What?' Copeland said irritably.
'The rivers,' she said.
'Exactly,' Race said. 'They came here by boat. Which means their
base of operations can't be too far aw—' He cut himself off.