He smashed a knuckle-splitting punch into Rasche’s face. ‘This is for Benjamin!’ he cried as the German howled, blood gushing from his nose. A second blow brought a dull snap of enamel from inside the war criminal’s mouth. ‘And every Jew you’ve ever killed!’ The Israeli wound up for a final attack—
Rasche lost his grip with one hand, lurching as the other took the full weight of both men. His jacket slipped around his shoulder — and a seam ripped. Zane dropped several inches, only the garment’s silk lining holding it together. He flailed, fingertips scraping the rock face in a fruitless search for support.
Even straining to keep his hold on the cliff, Rasche saw a chance for survival — and revenge. He reached down to snatch his SS dagger from its sheath.
The blade stabbed at the young man’s throat—
Zane’s hand snapped to intercept it, clapping around the Nazi’s wrist.
But he had only halted the knife, lacking the leverage to force it away. Rasche’s face contorted into a furious grimace as the shuddering dagger crept towards Zane’s neck. ‘You think you can kill me, little Jude?’ he snarled. ‘The Allies couldn’t in the war. The Mossad couldn’t after the war…’ The point pressed against the Israeli’s skin — then sank into it. ‘And you will not now!’
A choked grunt of pain and fear escaped Zane’s mouth. Blood ran down his neck, at first only an ooze, but within a couple of heartbeats it became a thicker, faster flow. Rasche growled with sadistic glee—
‘Jared!’
Eddie’s voice echoed around the chasm. A torch beam locked on to the two men. The Nazi flinched, momentarily dazzled—
The instant of distraction was enough. Zane pushed the knife away with rage-fuelled strength. More blood ran out, but he ignored the wound as he twisted Rasche’s hand up — bringing the blade towards the war criminal’s chest.
Rasche tried to resist, but the quivering dagger edged ever closer. ‘Nein!’ the Nazi shrieked. ‘Don’t do it!’
‘You’ve killed your last Jew,’ snarled the Israeli. The trembling dagger’s tip slowly penetrated Rasche’s shirt — then sank through flesh, between ribs. The arrogance and hatred that had defined the Nazi’s expression vanished, replaced by a single emotion: raw terror. ‘Now you know what they felt.’
Rasche opened his mouth to scream — as Zane thrust the dagger into his heart.
The cry died in the Nazi’s throat, only a choked gurgle emerging. He shuddered… then his hold on the cliff weakened, and released—
Eddie dived and grabbed Zane’s arm as the two men fell.
Rasche clawed at the Mossad agent, making one last attempt to drag the other man down with him, but his grip was too weak. He plunged into the darkness. The scream finally came, only to be cut off by the wet crunch of breaking bones and rupturing organs as he smashed on the rocks a hundred feet below.
The Englishman lay on his front, upper body over the edge as he gripped Zane’s arm. ‘Nina, give me a hand!’ he gasped. She and Banna helped him haul the Israeli up. ‘Jared! You okay?’
Zane slumped against the wall, exhausted. ‘Actually, yes,’ he gasped, pressing a hand to his bloodied throat. ‘Mission accomplished.’
‘Great,’ said Nina. ‘Then let’s get the hell out of here.’
The climb back to the surface was considerably slower than the descent. But eventually they reached the entrance, even the grey daylight of the forest dazzling. The group staggered out through the archway and collapsed on the damp ground. ‘Hope Hafez hasn’t buggered off,’ said Eddie, looking downhill. ‘It’s a bloody long walk back to the boats.’
Zane’s gaze turned to the shrine’s entrance. He spoke softly in Hebrew. ‘A Kaddish,’ he told the others. ‘For those we have lost. All of them,’ he added to Nina.
She nodded. ‘Thank you.’ Banna closed his eyes and bowed his head.
Eddie left a moment of respectful silence, then took the battered silver jug from his wife. Most of its contents had been spilled during the escape, but there was still a small amount of water inside. ‘They all died because of what’s in here. We should pour the bloody stuff away and be done with it.’
‘Maybe,’ said Nina. ‘But… it’s the last surviving relic of Andreas, the only proof that the Alexander Romance was true. It should be preserved just for that — even if we’re the only ones who know the full story.’
‘Yeah, ’cause we’re the only ones who got out of there alive.’ A pause, then he regarded her questioningly. ‘How did you know the statue was a trap? Where was the real spring?’
‘That was the real spring,’ she replied. ‘The whole place was a trap — Andreas never meant anyone to get it.’
‘Then why have a bloody treasure hunt with clues telling you how to find it?’ Eddie demanded.
‘It was a test. The whole thing, not just the clues leading to it.’ She gestured at the arch. ‘When he first found the spring, Andreas thought he’d made a mistake by not immediately telling Alexander what he’d discovered. But that was when he was a young man — and also just a humble cook serving the greatest king in the known world. He was overawed by Alexander, full of hero worship. But as he got older, and wiser…’
‘He figured out the truth about Alexander,’ said the Yorkshireman, realising where she was leading. ‘He was just as big an arsehole as any of the kings he defeated. Maybe even more so. He actually tried to take over the world.’
‘And came as close to succeeding as anyone ever has,’ Banna pointed out.
Nina nodded. ‘Andreas started out thinking that he should have given the Spring of Immortality to Alexander. After he died, his empire very quickly fell apart — but imagine what he could have accomplished if he’d lived for another thirty, sixty, a hundred years! But as Andreas used the water to live longer himself, and saw other rulers continuing the same old cycles of conquest and all the pointless death and destruction that came with them, he changed his mind. If Alexander had been given essentially eternal life, he would have become the world’s greatest tyrant. Imagine if Hitler had ruled unchallenged for a century. Or Stalin, or Mao.’
‘Or the men who paid Kroll millions of dollars for the water,’ said Zane. ‘They want to stay in control of their business empires, but the reason’s the same: they never want to give up their power.’
‘That’s right. Death’s the great equaliser; it doesn’t matter how much you’ve achieved, or how big your kingdom is — you lose it all when you die. But if you can delay death, then you’ll keep accumulating more and more power and wealth.’
‘Compound interest’s great if you’re already a rich bastard, innit?’ said Eddie. ‘I still don’t get why he didn’t just brick up the spring and be done with it, though. Why did he make it into a test?’
Banna’s eyes widened. ‘Because it is a test that you do not want to pass!’
Nina grinned. ‘Yeah. If you fail the test at any stage, then you’re not Alexander’s equal — so not a threat to the world. If you don’t realise that you have to sacrifice the statue of Bucephalus to get the artefact hidden inside it, if you can’t figure out how to use the fish to locate the spring, and if you can’t tell the fake spring behind that arch from the real one, you’ve wasted a lot of time and effort… but at least you stay alive. Anyone smart and resourceful enough, and therefore dangerous enough, to get all the way to Andreas’ tomb, though…’
‘You go to fill up the bowl, like Kroll did, and bam!’ crowed Eddie. ‘You get a Nazi surprise.’