The Lucifer Code (30 page)

There was no respite and the simple act of staying on the vertical mountainside was agony, let alone moving down it. All she could see in front of her was icy rock, inches from her eyes, illuminated in greens and blues by the helmet lamp. Her lungs were so starved of air that she felt as if she was under water, suffocating beneath a beautiful but deadly frozen sea.

Just when she thought she would pass out, two strong arms eased her on to the lower ledge. Her legs collapsed beneath her and she fell to the snow.

She could hear the wolves howling overhead as Fleming massaged her calf muscles. 'Well done,' he said. 'That was hard. There shouldn't be many as sheer as that and we can rappel from here. Once we get to the shoulder of the mountain we can rest for a while on the flat.'

She was almost weeping with frustration and pain. T don't think I can do it.'

'You can,' he insisted. He didn't even sound out of breath.

'Go on without me. One of us has to stop Bradley. Something's not right about what the Red Pope said - and I think Bradley's behind it. One of us has to survive to stop him.'

'Ssh. Save your strength for getting down the mountain.'

'But I'll hold you up. You must go on alone.'

'No. We're in this together.' Fleming yanked her to her feet. 'How the hell did they get down here so fast?'

Over her shoulder, she saw two grey shapes further along the shelf. The wolves were racing towards them. Fleming pulled her up and along the ledge with him, towards the heart of the mountain. She imagined the wolves closing in: this was their terrain.

Suddenly Fleming stopped. She followed his gaze and saw that the ledge ended some twenty yards in front of them, hitting a sheer wall of the mountain, cutting off their escape. About ten feet above where it met the ice face an eight-foot-diameter circular pipe jutted out.

Fleming undipped the rope that connected him to her, and pushed her forward along the ledge. 'Go to the end and wait for me.'

Amber looked nervously over her shoulder at the wolves. They were close now. 'What are you going to do?'

'Hope I get lucky' he said, as he held both ice picks high above his head and began to jump up and down on the ledge. 'Run, damn it, run!' he shouted, as she stood watching him. Galvanized, she made for the mountain face.

When she got there she turned and saw Fleming still jumping up and down, while the wolves raced closer and closer. Just when she thought the nearest wolf was going to leap at him, he fell through the ledge, and vanished in a flurry of snow and ice.

The wolves careened to a stop. A ten-foot gap in the ledge now divided them from her. But where was Fleming?

'Miles, you okay?' she said into her microphone, trying to control her rising hysteria. 'Miles, talk to me. Miles.'

*

The security suite.

VenTec

'Jesus, Bradley, what have you done?'

Frank Carvelli's face was a sickly green as he followed Soames down the white sector corridor away from the reception lobby where the patch of red snow on which Virginia Knight's mutilated corpse had lain was visible through the glass doors. Vomit stained his immaculate black cashmere polo-neck, and all trace of his smooth confidence had disappeared. 'Why didn't you call off the wolves? We hadn't even agreed to get rid of Fleming and Amber so why kill Virginia for letting them go? This is getting way out of hand, Bradley. This is too-'

Soames raised his hand impatiently and studied the snow-flecked security monitors. The cameras on the outside of the rig were picking up nothing on the helipad or the steel platform outside the reception area - except two security guards, looking aimlessly out into the snowy night. 'Where have they gone?' he asked, puzzled rather than angry.

Tripp and Bukowski appeared in the doorway.

Both were kitted out in survival suits and carried guns. Their gloved hands were smeared with blood and their suits were streaked with dark stains. Carvelli leant against the wall to steady himself.

'You've cleared away the mess?' Soames asked.

Bukowski nodded.

'Well done. Now go outside and find the wolves. Bring back whatever they've left of Fleming and Amber.'

Bukowski and Tripp turned away.

'One word of advice,' Soames said, before they left. 'Don't disturb them if they're still eating. Let them finish before collecting what's left.'

'Bradley what's got into you?' Carvelli moaned. 'Why are you doing this? It's madness. Why's it so important to you that Amber Grant and Miles Fleming die?'

Soames's disconcerting eyes appeared to look deep into Carvelli's soul, evaluating, deciding. 'Do you really want to know?' he asked eventually. The way he said it made it sound like a challenge. Can you handle the truth?

Carvelli's mouth felt dry. 'Yes,' he croaked.

For a second Soames didn't respond. Then he gave a small smile and led Carvelli out of the security suite. He passed through the white sector and pressed the elevator button.

Fleming's luck had changed: the weak part of the ledge had broken away, creating a barrier between Amber and the wolves - but plunging him, for one heart-stopping second, into the void. It had taken all his strength to implant his picks into the icy rock-face beneath the ledge on Amber's side. His first attempt didn't hold, but the second - which almost wrenched his right arm out of its socket - did.

Then he clawed his way up and on to the ledge.

Amber rushed to help him up. 'Why didn't you answer me?'

'I was kind of preoccupied.'

'You scared me,' she said, holding him close.

'I scared myself.' The wolves were pacing around the ledge on the opposite side of the gap, mustering the resolve to make the leap. 'Come on,' he said. 'We can't stay here.'

'There's no way I can climb down there,' she said, pointing to the sheer rock-face, which disappeared into the darkness without any hint of a ledge or natural break.

Fleming reattached Amber's rope to his own suit, then reached into his rucksack for the palmtop computer Virginia had given him, laid it in his hand and checked the screen. 'We're not going down. We're going up.' He waved at the open pipe ten feet above them. 'If I've read this plan correctly, that's an overflow pipe from the original Alascon oil-rig. The pipeline probably cuts through the mountain towards the refinery on the eastern mountain, which isn't far from the rangers' station. It should be relatively easy to move along - it's protected from the elements and those bastards shouldn't be able to follow us.'

Even as he indicated the wolves, the larger animal was backing away from the ledge preparing for a leap.

Fleming moved to the ice wall at the end of the ledge. 'Stand back from the edge and keep your hand on the carabiners - sorry, that's the snap rings on the rope linking you to me. If I fall, unsnap them or I'll drag you down with me.'

She gave him a horrified look. And let the wolves get me? I'm not touching any damn snap rings. Just make sure you don't fall. You're supposed to be good at this.'

Fleming planted his left ice pick in the sheer face, used his right boot to kick out the first foothold and pulled himself up. Then he planted his right pick higher up and kicked in his left boot. Climbing fluidly, he reached the pipe with little difficulty. Inside it resembled a manmade cave, damp and dark but infinitely more inviting than the bleakness and the wolves outside. He could feel a current of warmer air blowing from inside the mountain.

He looked down, and saw the first wolf leap across the gap. He braced his legs and tugged on the rope, hoping Amber wouldn't slip, but the wolf gave her impetus and he pulled her into the pipe before it caught her.

They paused for a moment to watch the wolves baying helplessly below, then turned and walked into the mountain.

There was an uphill gradient to the pipeline but a flat track running along the base acted like steps. They walked in silence for almost fifteen minutes, when Fleming became aware of a change in the air. The subtle current was now a warm breeze and he could smell something too. 'That's odd.

Bradley told me his father never produced oil here.'

'He didn't,' said Amber. 'He made a strike but died before the rig began to produce. Bradley closed everything down and sealed up the borehole when he sold Alascon Oil and converted the rig to VenTec' She stopped in her tracks. 'Look!'

Ahead, through the gloom, Fleming could see the most bizarre sight: a stroboscopic light show accompanied by a whirring hum. The breeze was now so strong he felt the warm air pushing against him. As he approached he had to turn his eyes away from the source of light above him because it was so bright, but by keeping his eyes down and squinting he could take in his surroundings. They had arrived at a crossroads where the pipe they were walking along bisected the central borehole. Below was a vast circular hole, at least thirty feet wide and blocked with an iron plug some twenty feet down. In the centre of the plug was a projecting pipe, which Fleming guessed was the top of the drill bit. The smell was strong here and he guessed that somewhere down in the murky abyss beneath the iron cap was oil. A dilapidated gantry ran across the borehole offering access to the other side.

A glance upwards told Fleming that a vast fan, sucking in cooler air, pushing out hot air, was producing the light show. Above it he could hear a now familiar hum. This and the bright light told him what was overhead.

Stepping forward, he checked the gantry: although it was corroded, it seemed sound. 'Come on,' he said, 'let's get a move on.'

The wind from the fan threatened to blow him off the gantry, and the blinding light meant he had to look down into the unnerving pit.

'God, it looks like it goes down to hell itself,' he heard Amber say behind him. She rested a hand on his shoulder, and when they reached the other side they breathed audible sighs of relief.

From here the pipeline sloped downwards and Fleming was encouraged. The lower the pipe exited on the other side of the mountain, the less climbing Amber would have to do. They walked in silence for half an hour until they came to a fork.

'Which way?' Amber said.

'I have no idea, but my hunch is to take the easterly one - the left. That should take us closest to where we want to be. I can also feel some air coming from there.'

'Okay' she said, and stepped forward into the left tunnel, taking the lead.

As he watched her small form walk ahead, his mind wandered to the strange look of understanding that had passed between Amber and Soames when she had challenged the Red Pope's announcement, and Soames's cryptic remark: 'I think now you understand why I can't let you or Miles live.'

What the hell had he meant by that?

Amber?'

'Yes?'

'What did Bradley-'

Amber stumbled and disappeared. She screamed, 'I'm falling, Miles!'

Fleming braced his legs, gripping the rope that still joined them together. She was falling too fast, though, and it snapped taut. He fell on to his stomach and was dragged along the pipe. Ahead the incline fell away sharply, like a chute, and beyond he could see only snow and the dark, cold night. This was another overflow pipe. It had spewed Amber out of the mountain into thin air and was trying to do the same to him. He tried to dig in his crampons and boots but couldn't get any purchase on the sheer iron.

'Cut the rope!' Amber shouted. 'Please cut the fucking rope!'

In desperation he thrust his ice picks into the metal pipe, trying to get a grip, the friction sparking like a subway train with its emergency brakes on.

Just feet from the mouth of the pipe he heard a crack and experienced the white-heat of pain in his right arm as he flipped round to dangle feet first out of the pipe. But at least he had stopped falling. Somehow the tip of the pick in his right hand had anchored itself to a protrusion in one of the weld seams. Quickly he thrust in his left pick to ease the pressure on his strained right arm. The rope round his waist was pulling at his arms but he was grateful for the survival suit's internal wire framework, which helped spread Amber's weight through his body. But he had no foothold. He couldn't pull her up. Gritting his teeth, he wondered how long he would be able to hold on.

In her dreams of dying, Amber was falling through blackness towards death. But this time there was no light ahead of her, only more darkness. And this was no dream.

The first thing she was aware of was that the ground had fallen away from her feet and then, almost immediately, she was out of the pipe and in free fall.

When she felt the first yank as the rope went taut she sighed with relief, but then she began to fall again arid realized she was pulling Fleming with her.

Seconds later her fall was broken for a second time. Suspended by the ring on the front of her suit she lay on her back in the dark, the light from her helmet torch illuminating the flecks of snow swirling around her in the void.

'Miles, what's happening?'

'It's not good.'

'Cut the rope, then.'

'I'm not cutting any more goddamn ropes.'

She was surprised by the aggression in his voice. 'But. . .' She paused. 'I'm sorry'

There was a moment of silence.

'What were you going to ask me before I fell?' she asked.

'It was about Bradley and what the Red Pope said. But it hardly matters now. I guess I'll find out the answers myself soon enough.'