The Messiah Secret - James Becker [121]
Angela looked startled.
‘What’s behind that wall may be the most important archaeological find ever,’ Donovan continued, ‘but it means far more to me than that. If the stories in the Bible are true – and I believe that they are – then Jesus had the power to heal the sick and raise the dead. That’s why I’ve been following this trail for so long. Just think what I could do with that kind of power today.’
‘But how can the bones of a two-thousand-year-old corpse be . . . ?’ Bronson’s voice trailed off as he made the connection.
‘You’re a geneticist,’ Angela said flatly, making an intuitive leap. ‘And the whole purpose of all this’ – she gestured at the armed men in the cave – ‘is so that you can get your hands on the body. Or more accurately get your hands on a sample of tissue from the remains.’
Donovan nodded. ‘That’s what I’ve been looking for all along – the DNA of Jesus Christ. Have you the slightest idea what that could be worth today? To medical science? To cutting-edge genetic research? To achieve this, any risk, any price, and any sacrifice is entirely justified. And that’s why I’m afraid you’re both going to have to die. There can be no witnesses to what happens next.’
‘What about the two men with you?’ Bronson asked, desperate to keep some sort of dialogue going. ‘Have you told them about the sacrifice you’ll be expecting them to make?’
Donovan smiled. ‘These men are part of my private army. I’d trust them with my life. But I’m afraid you two are surplus to requirements.’ He turned to Masters. ‘Kill them, will you, Nick, and then we can get started.’
A few yards further up the valley from the cave entrance, one of Masters’s men was sitting on a rock, his Kalashnikov resting across his lap, his hand holding the pistol grip. About fifty yards down the slope, another two of the mercenaries were staring down towards the foot of the valley, their AK-47s slung over their shoulders. The three men were covering the two possible approaches to the cave.
They all heard the unmistakable roaring, clattering sound of a helicopter and for an instant none of them took any notice. They knew they were in a disputed border area, and they had seen and heard several helicopters since they’d crossed into India, so a chopper wasn’t exactly a new sight. But then the Hind appeared over the side wall of the valley, nose-down and heading straight towards the cave.
‘Take cover!’ one of the men yelled, swinging his weapon round to point at the approaching gunship, as his companion opened fire.
The mercenary closest to the cave looked round desperately for somewhere – anywhere – to hide. He knew he’d never make it to the cave entrance, but it was the only possible shelter. He had to try.
His finger slid on to the trigger of his AK-47 and fired a long burst, then turned and started running. But at that very moment the crew of the attack helicopter opened fire. There was a flicker of flame from the nose of the aircraft and a stream of machine-gun bullets ploughed a deep furrow across the rocky ground, ricochets from the impact of the shells and rock splinters flying everywhere.
Half a dozen rounds caught the running man in the chest and almost cut him in two. His momentum carried him forward another couple of steps, but he was dead before he stopped moving.
The Hind’s crew switched their aim, and in less than two seconds the other soldiers’ weapons fell silent as their bullet-riddled bodies slumped down among the rocks.
* * *
The cave echoed with the sound of automatic weapons’ fire. The armed man at the back of the cave reacted immediately, unslinging their weapon and starting to move. Bronson’s attention was fixed on Masters.
The former soldier glanced across at him, then at John Cross and what little was visible of the mountain slope outside the cave. Then he reached inside his parka and pulled out a semi-automatic