Rook turned to look back at the men by the office door. They had each let the barrels of their respective weapons droop, as they stared at the huge moving head with slack jaws.
“I’m guessing you boys weren’t in on Ridley’s plan. We’re all gonna be chopped sushi.”
Bubbles exploded from the ocean floor surrounding the statue. Silt and sand billowed in massive clouds as the statue pulled away from its long-time resting place and began to sit up. Its huge arm twisted toward the wall. Each fingernail was larger than a man. The face turned to a vicious scowl, and the tips of its stone fingers touched the Plexiglas.
“Sweet mother of God…” the man with the leg bandanas said, as his bladder let go and a puddle of acrid beer-smelling urine stained his pants.
Rook brought his raised hands together, fingers resting on his wristwatch. The remaining mercenaries still weren’t looking at him as he slipped one battle-armored leg through the metal railing of the balcony and held on tight. He took one last look at the rising stone monstrosity beyond the viewing window and then leaned toward the metal control panel on the wall. Moving slowly, he bumped the light switch with his shoulder. The office went dark, but the giant statue awakening from the sea bed remained illuminated like a Neptune-themed Christmas tree.
“What the—” the SAS man started, but never finished as Rook depressed the radio trigger on his wristwatch.
The block of C4, still hidden under the metal door on the floor of the gallery, exploded. The door spun through the gallery, but posed no real threat. That came next. The immensely thick aquarium wall shattered right up the center with a hideous shriek. The crack spider-webbed faster than a sneeze, and the wall gave way. The Gulf of Tunis — just a small portion of the mighty Mediterranean Sea — gushed through the now nearly 300-foot long open window into the subterranean base. The pressure-driven salt water instantly filled the gallery, blasting down the Sub Level 3 corridor. A tidal wave of white frothing fury swept over the balcony rail, and a second after Rook grasped the rail with both hands, it hit.
The impact was like getting punched in the face and chest by a gaggle of heavyweight fighters, but Rook clung to the rail, his armored legs firmly locked in place around the metal. The tsunami of water plowed through the office space, crushing furniture across the room, and slamming the three mercenaries into the wall, pinning and drowning the shocked men.
Rook had taken a huge breath before he detonated the C4, and he had closed his eyes against the wall of water, but the second he felt the initial surge of terrifying pressure leave his face, he couldn’t help but open his eyes to take in the sight.
He wished he hadn’t.
The Colossus was rising.
TERMINAL
FORTY-FIVE
Knight was about to die. The man pointing an AK-47 at his heart had a long handlebars mustache under his Vietnam era helmet and a look in his eyes that said he was going to enjoy what came next.
Suddenly, the man’s chest ripped apart, small bursts of flesh and fabric spraying upward from the man’s chest. The sight was coupled by the staccato clap of an MP-5 being drained of its ammo. Bullets ripped into the man until he fell over backward.
Knight turned his head down and saw that Asya had slipped down between his splayed legs and fired her MP-5 upward from the floor — missing his crotch by inches — to fill the mercenary full of bullets and death.
She slid gracefully out from between his legs, popped to her feet, replaced her spent magazine and then checked both ways down the hallway of Sub Level 1’s laboratories.
“Thanks,” Knight said and walked out into the hallway, gingerly stepping over the dead man. A pile of bodies covered the floor at the southern end of the hall. He distantly recalled hearing gunfire, but thought it had been on a different level.
Then they heard yet another explosion, deep in the depths of the facility — but this one was stronger. The air in the hallway started rushing past him.
His mind didn’t have time to process what he was experiencing before his instincts took over. He grabbed Asya’s hand and dragged her toward the Microbiology Lab and its secret tunnel to the surface. Asya asked no questions, but simply ran with him. As they rounded the doorway into the lab, water began spraying out of the bottom and sides of the stairwell door.
Knight ran faster.
They reached the janitorial closet and found the secret door wide open. More bodies covered the floor on the other side. Knight heard the stairwell door blow up behind him. Rupture, was the word that swept through his mind. Water rushed into the hallway behind him with mad intensity, the wave crashing into the lab, upturning tables and equipment like a rampaging monster.
“Go!” Knight yelled.
They ran as fast as they could, but the water was faster.
The wave of water blasted into them from behind, knocking them down and launching them toward the tunnel’s end. Knight managed to shut his mouth just in time. He hoped Asya had done the same.
The salt water stung his eyes when he tried to look for her, so he snapped them shut again, and reached out with his hand, hoping he would be able to grasp the staircase railing.
But he didn’t have to. His body was tossed up and out of the water and onto the floor of the tunnel. The water sloshed around him, and then began to recede back into the tunnel. Knight raised his head and saw Asya a few feet in front of him. Her long hair was down in front of her face. After a moment’s stillness, she coughed the water from her lungs.
Knight heaved in a deep breath, then saw that the stairs were nearby — only they didn’t look right. He staggered to his feet and looked back the way they had come. They had been swept right past the amphitheater stairs and into the next tunnel. He didn’t know where these stairs led, but they went up. It would be an improvement over the flooded subterranean base.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I think I swallowed most of Mediterranean,” Asya said between coughs.
“Let’s get out of here,” Knight said, taking the stairs and trusting that if Asya could joke, she’d be fine.
They ascended the stairs to another tunnel, and then found a door that led to a huge underground parking lot with concrete support columns, and a nearby vehicle tunnel leading down.
Not what I want.
Knight looked across the vast lot, but couldn’t find another exit.
“Come, this way. Entrance from fountain is near mosque.” Asya led the way across the garage.
Knight followed, looking for CCTV cameras or men taking cover behind the pillars, but once he was convinced they were alone in the echoing space, he began jogging faster. Then he spotted a black metal ladder on the far wall, and two dead bodies at the foot of it.
“No shortage of dead men here,” Asya said.
She climbed the ladder and opened the hatch at the top.
They climbed out of the fountain and into a small park. They were alone.
“Almost dawn. Mosque worshipers will arrive soon.” The sky was a pale blue, the sun just below the horizon.
“Can’t be helped,” Knight said. Then he keyed his microphone.
“Queen, you read?”
“Knight! Get your ass to the shore on the far side of the Baths. The shit is getting deep.” Queen’s voice sounded frantic. Then he heard distant gunfire.