Hoyt ignored his question, instead gesturing towards the exit. ‘Okay. Get her outside, and we’ll—’
The door opened. The man with the feeble moustache rushed in, rain-soaked hair draped over his forehead. He started to say something in Russian, only to halt abruptly as he took in the scene. Hoyt’s gun locked on to him. The new arrival stared at the American, watery blue eyes wide — then with a startled gasp he stumbled backwards down the stairs into the storm.
Hoyt watched him run, then snapped his gun back to Chase. ‘Go.’
Chase carried Natalia to the door and looked outside. The gunfire had roused the camp, people scrambling from the tents. The running man reached one just as another Russian emerged. Chase recognised him as the lean-faced man who had been with the scientist earlier. He was not just the leader of the Russians; from the responses of the Vietnamese as he shouted orders, he was in overall charge of whatever was going on.
‘Move it!’ Hoyt shouted. Chase descended the stairs to the waterlogged ground. Natalia was instantly soaked by the lashing rain, her thin medical gown sticking to her skin. ‘Get to the trees!’
Two of the ‘bandits’ ran towards the cabin, their AKS-74Us raised — but an urgent command from the head Russian stayed their fire. Hoyt, however, had no such restraints. He unleashed a swathe of bullets that took down both men, then leapt from the doorway to follow Chase into the undergrowth.
Shouts came from the big tent. Chase saw a Vietnamese man rush from its entrance, waving frantically. He wasn’t one of the guards: that meant Sullivan, Castille and the others had already got the prisoners out without being seen.
But they couldn’t have gone far in so short a time. He expected some of the kidnappers to start after them — but instead their entire focus was on the two men and one woman who had just left the cabin.
They want Natalia back — but why?
Chase had no time to dwell on the thought. Squinting as the wind sent stinging rain into his face, he ran deeper into the jungle. Behind him, Hoyt stopped and took something from a pocket. He lobbed it through the cabin’s open doorway. A couple of seconds later there was an explosion, followed by a swelling, crackling roar. An orange light washed over the encampment. The grenade was an incendiary, setting the laboratory — and everything still inside — aflame.
The American set off after Chase. But the gap between them now gave the camp’s inhabitants a chance to fire without risking Natalia’s life. More yelled orders, the Russian commander’s voice joined by angry calls in Vietnamese. Shots ripped through the trees. Chase looked back. The spreading blaze provided enough light to show Hoyt ducking into cover before returning fire. A scream came from the camp as another man was hit.
The Englishman also saw others spreading out, trying to cut off his escape. He changed direction, weaving between the swaying trunks. Getting away from Natalia’s captors was now his primary objective — but escaping from Hoyt was a close second. He didn’t doubt for a moment that the American would kill him to protect his secret.
Hoyt and the Vietnamese exchanged more shots. Chase kept running. He had lost his bearings in the confusion, pounding across a steepening slope, but couldn’t do anything more than head away from the camp. No way to tell where Castille and the others were…
The radio. He could warn Sullivan about Hoyt!
Chase raised his arms, clumsily shifting Natalia’s weight as he tried to switch on the walkie-talkie. He finally found the dial and turned it, hearing a click from the headset. ‘Hal! Can you hear me? This is Eddie, do you read me? I’ve—’
The ground disappeared in front of him.
With a yelp, Chase threw himself on to his back just in time to avoid careering over a near-vertical drop. Natalia was not heavy, but she still weighed enough to wind him as she landed on top of him. He dug his heels into the mud and pushed himself away from the precipice. He was at the edge of the valley he had seen on the map, the dark chasm below ready to swallow the unwary.
He struggled back to his feet. The radio crackled, Sullivan’s voice barely discernible. ‘Chase? Where are you? Are you okay?’
He set off again, angling up the slope. ‘Hal, I’ve got Natalia, but Hoyt—’
The crack of a gunshot and the thud of a bullet hitting a tree right beside him were simultaneous.
Chase spun, adrenalin and fear surging. He expected to see Hoyt, but the shape approaching through the rain-filled murk was smaller. A woman — one of the Russians — took on form, a white coat partly visible under her rain gear and a pistol in her outstretched hand. She shouted at him, but he didn’t understand the words.
Sullivan spoke through the headset again, but Chase didn’t answer. The woman advanced, aiming at his head. She almost stumbled as a gushing rivulet caused mud under her foot to slip away, but with Natalia in his arms Chase couldn’t do anything to take advantage.
The Russian repeated her demand, flicking the gun towards the ground for emphasis. Put her down. Now. She was easily close enough to shoot him without risking injury to Natalia; the only reason she hadn’t done so already was that if he dropped her, she might roll down the slope and go over the edge.
They were determined to keep her alive, then. But that wouldn’t help him without a major distraction…
One arrived — from an unexpected source.
A hissing rumble came from uphill, growing louder every second. The streams of water running down the slope suddenly became torrents, spray bursting up from rocks and roots. Chase and the Russian woman both looked around—
For a moment he thought the whole hill was melting… before realising he was staring into a mudslide.
Part of the waterlogged hillside had given way under the relentless force of the tropical storm, and now it was thundering straight at him. The sludgy wave front was only about eight inches high, but that was more than enough to sweep the muddy ground out from under his feet.
Still clutching Natalia, he toppled and slithered helplessly down the slope — and fell with the screaming Russian over the edge into the blackness below.
9
Nina read through Tova’s translation of the Valhalla Runestone for what felt like the millionth time. The words may have been in English, but by now they seemed to have lost all meaning.
Following the thwarted kidnap attempt on the historian, she and Eddie had been taken to the headquarters of Stockholm County Police. Despite Tova’s statement on their behalf, the couple had been threatened with arrest for crimes ranging from grand theft auto through possession of illegal firearms to murder. To avoid being charged, Nina had reluctantly been forced to draw a big gun of her own: legal immunity. As the director of a United Nations agency she had the de facto status of a senior diplomat, and the same privilege was automatically conferred on her spouse. She had as a result endured an uncomfortable telephone discussion with Oswald Seretse the previous evening, the normally calm and urbane official sounding as close to apoplexy as he ever got before she explained the circumstances, and had no doubt that more questions would come when she returned to New York.
But for now, she and Eddie were both free and able to work. She was working, at least, her laptop linked to the IHA’s database and trawling for any information that could suggest why Russians might want to steal a runestone or kidnap a historian. That kind of research was not Eddie’s forte, so he had left her to it.
For that matter, where was he? She had been so engrossed that she only belatedly realised he was no longer in the hotel suite. Trying his phone got no reply, the call going straight to voicemail.