The yellow tube struck the floor and skittered to the only man sitting there, still bent over after being shot in the back.
Kier Marchand picked up the tube and stared back at Duncan.
Their eyes met.
70
2:21 p.m.
Kier clutched the tube in his hand, noting the burning fuse. He had time to snuff it out, to stop this effort by the young man. Or he could toss it back to where it came from and eliminate the targets who had so plagued him.
But he knew who was ultimately at fault.
He turned back to Ferhat and Tissot and the flanking soldiers.
He remembered the cardinal’s words a moment ago:I will share the resources and assets of the Confrérie—who will never learn of today’s treachery. To cover up his betrayal of the Brotherhood, Tissot would never let Keir leave this cavern alive.
He had already accepted this fate.
But providence had granted him a gift. While it wasn’t a reprieve from death, it was a means of revenge.
He flung his arm toward his former allies, letting the charge fly. Rounds pelted his body in an attempt to stop him, but the barrage came too late. His Kevlar vest and helmet protected him long enough to see the horror writ across the cardinal’s face and the rare panic in the captain’s eyes.
Then his world exploded.
71
2:22 p.m.
Duncan huddled over Sharyn. Both of them were sheltered behind the gold table as the blast pounded the room. Archie had followed, too, after noting Marchand’s assist. Likewise, Laurent had abandoned Russo’s body, snatched a pistol from the floor, then shoulder-rolled across the tabletop to join them.
The explosion crushed them all, deafened everyone.
A kilo of TNT has the power to destroy a small vehicle and kill anything within a few meters of its blast. The confines of the chamber amplified this danger. Even sheltered thirty yards away, the detonation felt like being stomped on by a giant. Rubble, most of it golden, shattered around them, accompanied by a hail of rocks. Other softer debris splattered, limbs and body parts, some pieces still bearing armor.
Finally, the barrage ended.
Duncan checked to make sure everyone was okay, then risked rising up. The view beyond their shelter showed the carnage left behind. A small smoking crater marked the epicenter of the blast. Golden artifacts—shields and trumpets—had been hammered from the walls, some crushed, others looking miraculously untouched. Elsewhere, lanterns had been blown off their gilded chains. Menorahs lay crooked in their alcoves.
Still, the cavern remained intact.
Duncan had feared the charge might cause a cave-in, but he had trusted the mountain could withstand such a blast. He was relieved to be proven right.
The soldiers in the room had not fared as well. Bodies lay everywhere. Broken, torn, smoking. Blood pooled and continued to spread. A few figures moved. One man crawled toward the exit, dragging a bloody stump. Another took a potshot toward them, but a sharp retort next to his ear made Duncan flinch to the side.
Laurent held out his pistol, ready to shoot again, but the gunman collapsed.
Momentarily distracted, they failed to note another.
Julian shoved to his knees, his face bloody, rising to the side of the table, only a couple yards away. He lay tangled in Russo’s body, as if the dead woman had sought to exact her revenge. Unfortunately, Julian had vengeance on his mind, too. With pistol in hand, he fired nearly point blank, driving them all down.
A round clipped Laurent’s cheek, breaking bone.
They dropped low and waited for Julian to stop shooting. Once he had emptied his magazine, Duncan and Laurent popped up. By now, using the cover of his barrage, Julian had retreated halfway across the chamber. He tossed aside his emptied pistol, snatched a bent gold shield in his bloody hand, and grabbed an abandoned rifle in the other.
Laurent returned fire, his aim shaky, clearly concussed from the shatter of his cheekbone. Still, his rounds pinged off gold or struck his target’s body armor.
Julian shielded his head, while strafing blindly toward them. It was enough to force them back down, especially as the slide on Laurent’s pistol had popped. He was out of bullets.
