The Navigator - Cussler Clive (читаем книги онлайн бесплатно полностью .TXT) 📗

“We’ll go on foot from here,” George said to the advance man. “You lead the way.”

Austin got out of the Land Rover and slipped his night vision goggles over his eyes. He and the others followed the advance man along the edge of the road in a distance-eating trot.

BALTAZAR CARRIED Carina up the stairs and lowered her onto the statue’s upraised arms.

The drugs that had kept her unconscious for hours were wearing off. She awakened with an oily smell in her nostrils. As her vision cleared, she saw the hideous bronze face of Ba’al. Her arms and legs were bound in bandages, but she was able to move her head. She craned her neck and saw Baltazar standing at the base of the statue.

“I’d advise you not to struggle, Sheba. You’re on a precarious perch.”

“I’m not Sheba, you demented fool. And I want you to let me go.”

“Your queenly haughtiness betrays you,” Baltazar said. “You are Sheba’s descendant. You have Sheba’s blood in your veins. You tempted me as your ancestor tempted Solomon. But Ba’al sent Austin to remind me of my family duty.”

“And you are a madman as well as a fool.”

“Perhaps,” Baltazar said.

He studied the elements of the scene like an artist contemplating a potential subject. He was reaching for a wall torch when he heard what sounded like gunfire.

AUSTIN HAD halted at the edge of the access road and dropped down on one knee.

A match had flared ahead, and the breeze carried cigarette smoke his way. He could see a figure pacing back and forth in the grainy green vista produced by the night vision goggles.

George tapped Austin on the arm. He pointed to himself and then to the sentry.

Austin gave him an okay signal. George bent low and crept up on the unsuspecting guard. Austin watched as the figures merged. There was a grunt, and the guard dropped to the ground. George waved the others on.

“Sloppy,” George said as he stood over the unconscious guard. “Sorry about that.”

Some of the guards had heard the sentry’s grunt and came running to investigate. Shouts were coming from every direction. George was illuminated by light from an electric torch. He raised his hands to shield his eyes. Austin threw a flying block that knocked George out of the path of the fusillade that came next.

George scrambled to his feet and unleashed a short burst from his machine pistol. The light went out, followed by screams of pain.

Austin sprinted toward the castle and ran across the bridge over the dry moat. The mercenary guarding the door was trying to make sense of the shouts, moving lights, and gunfire. Unlike Austin, he didn’t have the advantage of night vision. He didn’t see the figure racing toward him with shoulders lowered until it was too late.

Austin hit the man like a bowling ball. The guard crashed backward, and his head snapped against the castle’s wall. He slumped unconscious to the ground.

Austin opened the heavy door and stepped into the coldness of the castle. With his Bowen extended in both hands, he quickly searched the first level and found the room with the big fireplace. The door at the back of the fireplace had been left open slightly, allowing a sliver of torchlight to escape.

Tossing his night vision goggles aside, Austin kicked the door open and ran down the stairs. He stepped through an arched portal and took in the scene. The circular room with its grotesque statuary. The heavy smell of oil. Carina on the upraised arms. And Baltazar, who stood calmly beside the statue as if he had been expecting Austin.

“Austin!” he said, his face contorted into a mask of fury. “Somehow, I knew it was you.”

As a start, Austin wanted Baltazar away from Carina. He aimed the Bowen. “Fun’s over, Baltazar. Come down from there.”

Baltazar ducked behind the statue and spoke into the voice tube. The hollow voice seemed to issue from the open mouth of the statue.

“Too late, Austin. Sheba rests in the arms of Ba’al.”

Austin heard a grinding noise underfoot and stepped back as the trapdoors slid open to reveal the oil pit.

Clenching his teeth in concentration, he stood with his feet wide apart, aimed the Bowen at the statue’s face, and squeezed the trigger. Chunks of metal went flying. The statue’s nose disintegrated, to expose its hollowed interior. Austin let off another round. The heavy bullet took off a cheek. Then he methodically shot out the rest of the statue’s evil face.

There was a shriek of pain, and Baltazar stepped out from behind the statue. His face was bloodied from flying metal. He reached out and grabbed a torch from the wall. Austin snapped off a wild shot. It missed, but in his haste to seek cover, Baltazar dropped the torch on the stairs.

Baltazar descended the stairway to retrieve the flaming torch. Austin’s gun was empty. He tucked it into the holster and sprinted up the stairs.

Baltazar snatched up the burning brand and stuck it in Austin’s face. Austin ducked and threw his shoulder into Baltazar’s midsection. Baltazar dropped the torch but he was a physical match for Austin, and his rage gave him added strength. They struggled for a moment, lost their footing, and rolled down the staircase to the edge of the pool.

Baltazar head-butted Austin, got to his feet, and kicked Austin in the ribs. He aimed another kick at Austin’s face. Austin ignored the searing pain, grabbed Baltazar’s boot, and twisted. Baltazar stood on one foot, trying vainly to maintain his balance, and then fell head-first into the pool.

Austin scrambled to his feet and saw Baltazar trying to swim in the thick liquid. His head and face gleamed with the black oil.

“Get back, Kurt!”

The bandages that held Carina had stretched during her travels. She had freed herself and climbed off the statue’s arms. Now she stood on the stairs, holding the torch in her hand. With her white dress, and lovely features contorted in anger, she looked like an avenging angel.

“Wait,” Austin said. He started up the stairs.

Carina hesitated. She started to lower the torch. Then she saw that Baltazar was trying to climb out of the pool, a task made difficult by the oil on his hands. He struggled at the edge like a reptilian monster emerging from the deep. Carina raised her arm back and threw the torch. It arced through the air ahead of a trail of embers and landed in the middle of the oil pit.

There was a loud whoof.

Austin raced up the stairs and grabbed Carina around the waist. He pushed her into the space behind the statue and threw his body on top of hers.

Although the statue shielded them from the searing heat, they were in danger of choking from the cloud of greasy black smoke that billowed up to the ceiling. Even with smoke escaping through the vent in the ceiling, the chamber was filled with toxic fumes within seconds.

Austin was wrapping his arm tighter around Carina’s slim body when he felt a handle on the wall. He pulled the handle and a section of wall slid back. Cold air flowed from the rectangular opening. Austin was barely able to get the words out but he shouted at Carina to crawl through the opening. Then he followed her and slid the wall section shut.

Austin dug a penlight out of his jacket and flashed it around. They were in a room barely bigger than a closet. The air was musty but free of smoke. He guessed that it had been built to protect Baltazar’s ancestors when they were making sacrifices to Ba’al.

They stayed behind the statue until the oil burned itself out. Austin slid the door open a crack. The air was foul but mostly free of smoke. They used some of Carina’s gauze bandages to fashion makeshift smoke masks. Then they crawled out from behind the statue and made their way down the stairs to the door.

As they passed the smoking fire pit, Carina averted her eyes. Austin glanced into the pool as if he expected Baltazar to crawl from the depths. But all he saw was the noxious blackness of the abyss.