stairs so the workforce could lower the sun disc slowly to the plaza. It was made very clear to the unwilling members of the group that if the cart broke free and its cargo was damaged, they would all be shot.
After ten minutes of straining, sixteen people struggling to hold the great weight of the Inca treasure on the incline, the sun disc was safely off the foot of the ramp. Arms aching, Eddie nevertheless kept a close watch on Stikes and Callas. Once the golden artefact had been wheeled to the clearing and crated up ready to be lifted by helicopter, the only expedition member they needed to keep alive was Nina. Any opportunity to escape, however slim, would have to be taken.
But even with the majority of the soldiers helping move the sun disc, there were still four guards with AKs, and both Callas and Stikes were armed; the mercenary carried a gleaming nickel-plated Jericho 941 automatic, an Israeli weapon styled to resemble its larger and more famous Desert Eagle cousin, in a hip holster. And the crate was not far away; it would take just a few minutes to reach.
Not much time. There had to be some way they could break loose.
Maybe there was.
The mud near the tent, still churned up from where Eddie had fought the soldier. The cart would be pushed right past it . . .
‘Move!’ barked Callas, pointing across the plaza.
Everyone resumed their positions: Kit, Osterhagen, Becker and Loretta holding the chains to pull the sun disc, Eddie, Nina and Macy pushing the cart, both groups joined by soldiers. The cart’s fat tyres squeaked, bulging under the great weight as it rolled inch by inch across the uneven stone flags.
It drew closer to the patch of sludge. Eddie whispered to Nina, ‘I’m going to try something in a minute. If it works, run.’
‘What about the others?’
He couldn’t speak any louder without risking being overheard. ‘Just hope they’re quick on the uptake. This mud, coming up – get ready.’
The group pulling the chains were already angling to avoid the obstacle. Eddie checked the mud as the trolley skirted it.
The knife he had knocked from the soldier’s hand was still where it had fallen, almost submerged in the thick brown ooze.
He shifted position, moving his feet further from the trolley. Only another couple of steps now. A sidelong glance at the nearest guard. If he saw what he was doing . . .
Last step—
He planted his right foot into the mud – and felt the knife under his sole.
Now!
Eddie pretended to slip, his other foot slithering in the mud. He brought his right sharply forward to regain his balance, dragging the knife with it.
The guard would see if he tried to pick up the blade. Instead, he shoved it forward again and pressed the edge of his boot down hard on the hilt, forcing the blade upwards—
Into one of the tyres.
The point stabbed through the rubber as the cart rolled over it. The tyre exploded with a bang as loud as a gunshot, the sudden extra strain on the two neighbouring wheels causing them to compress.
Top-heavy, unbalanced, the cart tipped over.
Eddie and Nina jumped back—
One of the soldiers tripped, landing beside the cart. His panicked scream was abruptly cut off as the sun disc fell on top of him, two tons of dense metal flattening him with a splatter of blood and mud.
‘Run!’ Eddie yelled. He punched out a guard and broke into a sprint for the nearest alley.
Nina started to run after him, but another soldier blocked her way. She tried to swerve past – only to slip in the mud, knocking them both to the ground in a tangle of limbs.
Macy fared even less well. She had instinctively leapt back as the sun disc fell, colliding with the soldier behind. Before she could twist away, he tackled her.
Of the other team members, both Osterhagen and Loretta were too surprised to think of fleeing, turning in startled confusion. Kit, sandwiched between two soldiers, got just a couple of feet before he was grabbed. Only Becker managed to break away, barging another soldier out of his path and running for the main gate—
Callas bellowed in Spanish: ‘Stop him!’ The guards hurriedly brought up their weapons and tracked the gangling German. He weaved desperately as the shots closed in.
One tore a thumb-sized chunk of flesh from his thigh. He fell.
Stikes was hunting another target, snapping the Jericho from his holster and whirling to track Eddie as