The Tomb of the Gods (Matt Drake 4) by David Leadbeater Page B

were no traps they could see. The malevolent air would be enough to warn most people away. They passed a high gothic archway with supreme care. A foul miasma drifted up and began to swirl around their bodies as if sniffing, testing, and touching, and even the Special Forces soldiers shivered.
    “I.Don’t.Like.This.” Alicia was the one who spoke up, enunciating her words like bullet shots, probably trying to chase away her own feelings of dread with her form of ammunition.
    Farther down and underneath another gothic arch, they still couldn’t hear their enemies. Drake began to wonder if this passage was a false lead, and that Cayman was somewhere else. The backs of his calves burned. Several times something dropped on his head, something that skittered or squirmed quickly away, making him swallow hard to conceal the revulsion.
    Then, from a distance, they heard faint voices—many men shouting. The team halted for an agonizing five minutes and then began to proceed even more cautiously. Drake knew even the shouting could be a ruse. Where Russell Cayman was concerned, nothing could be taken at face value. Behind him, he heard Komodo whispering at Ben and Karin that they should now prepare for absolutely anything, even running back the way they had just come.
    At length, and after interminable minutes of sneaking slowly through the awful creeping dark, an enormous archway could be seen ahead. Still some way to go, but Drake, craning his head around Kinimaka and Hayden, could make out the floor of a well-lit cavern. He could hear men shouting back and forth. He could hear heavy gear being dragged.
    But he saw no one.
    He whispered to Hayden. “They can’t risk a firefight in the tunnel. It might cause a cave-in and trap them. They’ll wait until we emerge.”
    “Agreed.”
    Kinimaka grunted. “So get ready. I got a Christmas luau to get to soon. Time off and everything. Nothing like Christmas in Hawaii, man.”
    Drake got a glimpse of how lonely his Christmas might be, when only a few weeks ago it had held such promise. Whoever said “life can turn in a dime” sure knew what they were talking about. He thought about the dynamics going on in their little group and couldn’t think of anyone who might look forward to cast-iron Christmas happiness. Except Kinimaka.
    “We’ll do our best, Mano.” No guarantees.
    A whisper came back up the line as they approached the light. “We’re going to punch it. Fast and hard. Keep moving.”
    There was one more moment of pause and then the SAS team broke cover with extreme prejudice. But they didn’t just run and shoot, they threw flash bangs and smoke grenades all while staying in perfect fighting formation, covering each other as they ran. Mai fitted in perfectly with them as she would any specialized team. Hayden and Kinimaka burst out next, staying calm, then Drake, Alicia and Dahl, ready for the fight of their lives.
    Mayhem and violence confronted them. Heavy lifting gear and abseiling equipment was piled in the center of the huge cavern. Cayman’s men were arrayed around it and around the far walls, weapons spouting fire as they discharged their weapons. Drake and Alicia veered sharply to the right, firing into the central mass of the enemy. The SAS team advanced at pace. Komodo and his men burst out a second later, adding to the firepower. For several moments, the cavern floor was a warzone, a lethal free-for-all where skill was outmatched ten to one by pure luck.
    Drake skidded to one knee, rifle to shoulder, squeezing off a shot every second after a minor adjustment. His bullets struck bone and flesh, his aim only thrown off when sizzling lumps of hot lead zinged too close for comfort. He was immensely aware of the stunning tomb architecture all around him but didn’t have even a millisecond to appreciate it. His team had no cover, but they more than made up for that in sheer ferocity and perfect aim. Within a few minutes, the men Cayman had situated in the center