The Sacred Vault (22 page)

 

‘
I
don’t
like cricket,’ Eddie muttered as he entered the grandstand.

‘That’s because you lack taste and class,’ Mac joked, coming through the gate behind him.

‘I don’t know why you like it. I mean, you’re Scottish. It’s not exactly your national sport.’

‘Scotland has a fine cricket team.’

‘Yeah, and when was the last time they won anything?’

Mac made a faintly irritated sound. ‘It’s about the sportsmanship, not the winning.’

‘Bet you don’t say that when England lose, do you? And it’s the most boring sport imaginable. Give me footie or Formula One any day.’

‘I don’t think you’ll find this boring,’ Kit said, catching up to them with a heavy bag - a flash of his ID had allowed it to be brought into Bangalore’s M. Chinnaswamy stadium without being searched. ‘Indian matches aren’t like yours.’

Mac raised an eyebrow as he took in the scene. ‘You’re not joking.’

If British cricket events were staid and reserved, this was more like a carnival that happened to have a cricket match going on in the middle of it. Music blasted from loudspeakers, the crowd singing along, clapping and even pounding out beats on makeshift drums. Flags and banners waved, and in front of the grandstand was a display that would have left any blazer-wearing member of the Marylebone Cricket Club choking on his gin and tonic as a trio of cheerleaders danced and gyrated.

Eddie grinned. ‘Okay, Kit, you’re right - this is already a hundred times better than any other cricket match I’ve ever seen.’

Mac huffed, then continued along the grandstand towards his seat while Eddie and Kit descended the steps to find theirs. They had chosen their positions carefully; Eddie was in the front row with a couple of empty seats around him where Khoil - and Nina - could sit when they arrived, with Kit a couple of rows behind so he could observe events, and if necessary make a rapid exit with the Codex. Mac was further round, equipped with binoculars to give Eddie advance warning of potential trouble.

Eddie sat, watching the people filing into the grandstand around him. Most were male, displaying a mixture of ages and clothing styles; none seemed remotely interested in the balding Caucasian in the front row, the cheerleaders dominating their attention.

He glanced back at Kit, who responded with a small nod. Further away, he saw Mac in his seat, more men taking their places around him. So far, so good. He took out his phone and attached a Bluetooth headset to one ear, then entered a number. ‘Okay, Mac. Give me a check.’

‘I see you,’ said Mac, ‘and I see Kit. No sign of Nina or this Khoil fellow.’

‘Well, it’s not time for the exchange yet. Anyone look suspicious?’

‘Not that I can see. Just a lot of very excited cricket fans.’

‘Now
that’s
suspicious.’

‘You just don’t appreciate the subtleties of the game. Now Kit on the other hand—’

‘Yeah, I had to put up with you both wibbling on about it the entire bloody flight down here. Maybe you should adopt him.’

‘Does that mean I can finally get rid of you? I only have time for one surrogate son.’

Eddie laughed, then took another look round. Still no sign of Nina or Khoil. ‘Keep your eyes open, Dad. Let’s see what happens.’

With great fanfare, the match began. Eddie feigned interest while keeping watch. The first innings ended, marked by music and another butt-shaking dance from the cheerleaders. Second innings, third. Then: ‘Eddie,’ said Mac over the headset. ‘To your left.’

Eddie turned to see Khoil coming down the steps. No Nina. He checked if anyone else was approaching from the other side, and saw the man who had choked Nina with the plastic bag. Kit gave Eddie a concerned look, but an almost imperceptible shake of the head told him to stay put and maintain a watching brief.

Khoil sat to Eddie’s left, the man in black on his right. ‘Mr Chase,’ said the billionaire.

‘Mr Khoil,’ Eddie replied. ‘Can’t help noticing you’ve forgotten something.’

‘As have you,’ said Khoil, leaning to look under Eddie’s seat and finding nothing. ‘Where is the Codex?’

‘Where’s Nina?’

‘In my car.’

‘Then get her in here. You can afford the tickets.’

‘Do you have the Codex?’

‘You’ll get it when I get Nina. That was the deal. Now bring her in.’

Khoil made a brief phone call, then leaned back and watched the action on the pitch. ‘Sport has never been of much interest to me,’ he said, almost conversationally, ‘but my father was a great fan of cricket, so it has a certain nostalgic appeal. But even it’ - he indicated the cheerleaders - ‘has become debased. A sign of these corrupt times.’

‘They can get rid of the cricket and just leave the dancing girls, far as I’m concerned,’ said Eddie, more concerned with whether or not the other man was armed. He couldn’t see the telltale bulge of a gun under his close-fitting clothing, but that didn’t mean he lacked a weapon.

Khoil shook his head patronisingly. ‘Yes, I thought you might think so. You are predictably lowbrow, a symbol of this age.’

‘You don’t know me, mate.’

‘I know you better than you can imagine. Your Qexia search results tell me a lot; I have seen them. So has your wife. She was not pleased.’

Eddie winced inwardly. ‘That settles it. We’re switching back to Google.’

Mac’s voice in his ear struggled to be heard over the noise of the crowd as the batsman scored a four. ‘Eddie, Nina’s here. One man with her, your left.’

He looked. The guy with the filed teeth was escorting her down to the front row. She seemed unharmed, but was dishevelled and anxious. Even when she reached him, the look of relief couldn’t mask her worry. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

‘More or less,’ she replied.

He saw a dressing covering the bottom of her right ear. ‘What happened?’

‘Vanita almost gave me the Van Gogh treatment.’

Eddie rounded on Khoil. ‘You fucking—’

‘Enough,’ Khoil said coldly. ‘I have brought your wife, as agreed. Now, bring me the Codex.’

Eddie bit back an angry remark and was about to signal to Kit when Nina spoke. ‘Eddie, you can’t give it to him. Even for me.’

‘I’d swap the bloody Crown Jewels for you,’ he replied - but he was surprised by the degree of insistence in her voice. She was concerned about much more than her own safety. ‘Why’s it so important he doesn’t get it?’

‘Because he thinks it’ll help him start the Hindu version of the apocalypse.’

Eddie raised his eyebrows. ‘Okay, that’s important. How?’

‘I don’t know. But that’s what he told me, and I don’t see him rushing to issue any denials.’

‘The end of the Kali Yuga is inevitable, Dr Wilde,’ said Khoil. ‘As I explained, it will be better for it to happen sooner rather than later. For the good of all humanity.’

‘You see?’ Nina said scathingly. ‘He’s another nut with too much money and delusions of godhood. Am I a magnet for these people, or something?’

Eddie regarded the Indian dubiously. ‘Can he do anything like that? I mean, the guy owns a search engine, not a nuclear bomb factory. What’s he going to do, put up a link saying “Click here to play global thermonuclear war”?’

Khoil smiled faintly. ‘If you do not believe I pose a threat, then you have no reason not to hand over the Codex.’ His expression hardened. ‘I have brought your wife. Give it to me. Now.’

Eddie cast the briefest of sidelong glances at Tandon to make sure he was within striking distance before responding. ‘You know what? I think I’m going to listen to my wife.’

‘It would be very unwise to go back on our deal.’

‘What’re you going to do about it?’ He indicated the cheering crowd behind them. ‘It’s not like you can just kill us in front of all these people.’

‘All these people,’ said Khoil, a sudden rising smugness turning his plump face almost toad-like, ‘are
my
people. They work for me.’

‘Bullshit,’ said Eddie. ‘I only told you where to meet an hour and a half ago.’

‘My company is a major sponsor,’ he indicated an advertisement hoarding emblazoned with the Qexia logo, ‘which gives me a certain amount of influence here, and after I received your call I announced a surprise treat for three hundred of my most cricket-loving employees - a trip to today’s exhibition match. Any member of the public who had already paid for one of the seats in this block was told there had been a booking error and given a complimentary upgrade and free entry to another match of their choosing. As you said,’ a small, cold smile, ‘I can afford the tickets.’

Eddie and Nina exchanged worried looks. ‘Mac,’ said Eddie, trying to pick the Scot out through the waving banners as another run was scored, ‘trouble.’

‘Colonel McCrimmon will not be able to help you.’ Eddie whirled on Khoil in shock at his use of the name. ‘Yes, I know who he is - and where he is sitting. He cannot interfere. Qexia provided a list of your friends, and it was a simple matter to cross-check with Indian immigration files - my company wrote the software, so we planted back doors in the code - to see if any of them had recently arrived in the country.’

‘Mac!’ Eddie shouted. Through the earpiece he heard the grunts of a scuffle.

‘Some of my larger employees are making sure he does not leave his seat,’ said Khoil. ‘And as for your friend Mr Jindal from Interpol . . .’

Eddie jumped up and twisted to give Kit the signal to run. Kit stood - and immediately slumped back into his seat as the huge bearded figure of Mahajan, directly behind him, smashed a fist down on his neck like a hammer. A crack as a ball was hit for a four, and the stadium erupted in cheers, drowning out his cry of pain.

Adrenalin surged through Eddie’s body. Two immediate threats: the man in black and the guy with the teeth, who had just grabbed Nina from behind. But they would have no choice but to back down if their boss was in danger.

He whipped out his gun, shoving the Wildey’s long barrel into Khoil’s face—

But Tandon was faster, one hand jabbing with blinding speed. His knuckles hit Eddie on the side of his neck - and the Englishman dropped as if his bones had turned to jelly, collapsing at Khoil’s feet. He tried to move, but all he could do was twitch, nerves blazing where Tandon’s attack had struck a pressure point and induced instant paralysis. The gun clunked to the concrete. He heard Nina scream his name, but couldn’t even turn his head to look.

Khoil’s expression was far from its usual state of bland neutrality, though; it was now one of wide-eyed fright. He staggered back, almost falling over his seat. The spectators behind him hurriedly helped their boss back upright.

‘What’re you doing?’ Nina screamed at them. ‘Help us!’

No one did. ‘Get - get them out of here,’ said Khoil, shakily straightening his glasses. ‘Quickly!’ As Tandon recovered Eddie’s gun, Mahajan arrived, bearing Kit’s bag. Greed replacing shock, Khoil looked at it. ‘Is the Codex inside?’ Mahajan nodded.

‘Excellent.’ He followed Singh and the shrieking and struggling Nina up the steps. Mahajan gave the bag to Tandon, then effortlessly picked up Eddie in a fireman’s lift and strode after them.

The eyes of everyone in the grandstand remained firmly fixed on the game.

 

Mac had been shoved back down by the two big men in the neighbouring seats when he tried to respond to Eddie’s urgent call. He managed to strike one a painful blow to the chest with his elbow - only for the other to press a sharp knife against his abdomen.

He could do nothing but watch helplessly as Eddie was knocked down, then hoisted like a sack of potatoes. What had happened to Kit, he had no idea - his view of the Interpol officer’s seat was blocked by one of his hulking captors.

‘Bastards!’ he snarled, struggling to break free, only to feel the knife tip pierce his skin. Blood swelled on his shirt.

Khoil, his servants and his prisoners were now all out of sight. He had to get after them - but first he needed to deal with his captors . . .

Another crack from the pitch as a ball was hit clean over the boundary for a six. The crowd’s reaction was even wilder than the previous shot - frenzied roars and cheers filled the stadium as thousands of excited fans leapt to their feet.

Jostling Mac’s attackers.

The knife was knocked away, just for a second—

Mac wrenched himself from their grip. He whipped up his elbow again, smashing it into one man’s nose with an explosive snap of crushed cartilage and a burst of blood.

The knifeman struck at him as he twisted and kicked—

The blade stabbed deep into his left leg below the knee with a dull thud. Expecting a shriek of pain, the knifeman froze in confusion - and took a savage chop of the Scotsman’s hand to his throat. Tongue bulging from his gaping mouth, he let out a strangled shriek of his own as Mac yanked the knife out of the prosthesis and stabbed it down through the Indian’s hand, pinning it to his thigh.

Mac jumped up, punching the broken-nosed man out of the way as he pushed past. People in nearby seats responded in shock at the sudden flurry of violence, but he ignored them, looking for his friends. He spotted Kit slumped in his seat, but Eddie and Nina were gone.

He hurried to Kit, who was groggily stirring, one hand clutching his aching neck. ‘Kit! Are you all right?’

‘Someone hit me from behind,’ Kit gasped. He felt beneath his seat - and realised the case was gone. ‘What happened?’ he demanded, rounding on the man next to him. ‘I had a bag - where is it?’

‘I saw nothing, I was watching the game,’ the man mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

‘What? How could you not—’

‘They’re all Khoil’s people,’ said Mac. ‘He told Eddie he bought three hundred tickets for his employees. Two of the larger ones were sitting beside me.’

‘What happened to them?’