Seven Ancient Wonders - Matthew Reilly [113]
It was shaped like a trapezoid, with steep inwardly-slanting walls tapering upwards to a point. More handrungs ran in a line up the slanting wall—so that it was now like free-climbing up an overhang, with your legs hanging beneath you.
But it was the focal point of the recess—the highest point—that seized West’s attention.
It was a square horizontal ledge cut into the rock, about the size of a large refrigerator.
In stark contrast to the rough rocky surface of the rest of the recess, it was ornately decorated—with gold and jewels, making it look like a shrine.
From his current position, West couldn’t see inside it. He scaled the handrungs on the near side of the recess, holding his entire body up with only his arms.
He arrived at the ledge, did a strenuous chin-up to raise his head above its rim.
And his eyes widened.
Sitting there before him, mounted proudly inside this exceedingly difficult to reach altar, was a medium-sized golden trapezoid.
The Hanging Gardens Piece.
It was one of the middle Pieces, about the size of a washing basket. Too big for one man to carry by himself. He pulled out his pressure-gun, fired a piton into the rockwall, looped his rope around it.
‘Pooh Bear,’ he said into his mike. ‘Can you come over here? I need your help. Avenger: send some of your people to the other end of our rope to catch this when we send it back.’
Pooh Bear joined West—after a precarious climb—and together they managed to pull the Piece from its holy alcove and, placing it safely in a pulley-harness that hung from the return rope, they sent it whizzing back down the return rope to the catwalk.
Nestled in its harness, the Piece slid down the length of the rope, arrived back at the catwalk, where Avenger caught it with gleaming greedy eyes.
‘Have you got it?’ West’s voice said into his earpiece.
Avenger replied: ‘Yes, we have it. Thank you, Captain West, that will be all. Goodbye.’
And with that Avenger cut the return rope at his end and let it swing out over the void.
From his position, West saw the rope go slack, now only hanging from its piton at his end.
‘Oh, shit! Shit!’ he swung past Pooh Bear, moving fast down the handrungs in the slanting wall of the recess, reaching the bottom— the flat ceiling of the supercavern—just in time to see Avenger and his men run to the far end of the catwalk and toss three hand grenades behind them.
The grenades bounced along the rotten wooden catwalk.
And detonated.
The ancient catwalk never stood a chance.
The grenades exploded—and with a pained shrieking, the catwalk fell away from the ceiling. . .
. . . and sailed in a kind of slow motion all the way down to the sand-lake, 500 feet below.
West watched it all the way, knowing exactly what this meant.
With the catwalk gone, he and Pooh Bear had no way to get back to the stalactite.
The horror of their predicament hit home.
Lily and the Piece were in the hands of the escaping Israelis, the Americans were banging on the door, and now . . . now he and Pooh were stranded on the ceiling of the biggest cave he had ever seen with no way or hope of getting back.
After watching the destruction of the catwalk with grim satisfaction, Avenger scooped up Lily. He turned to head back down the stalactite’s spiralling path.
‘We won’t be needing Captain West or the Arab anymore. Nor—’ he drew his pistol—‘will we be needing you, Mr Zae—’
But Mustapha Zaeed, his animal instincts ever alert, had already seen what was coming.
By the time Avenger had his pistol drawn, Zaeed had already broken into a run—dashing off down the path and into one of its cross-tunnels.
‘He won’t get far. Come. Let’s get out of here.’ With Lily in his grasp, he led his men down the path.
‘Huntsman,’ Pooh Bear gasped. ‘I’m . . . er . . . in some trouble here . . .’
West rushed back—swinging with his hands across the rocky ceiling—to check on Pooh Bear in the recess.
Pooh was heavier than he was, with far less arm-strength. He wouldn’t be able to hold himself up for long.
West