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‘Never mind,’ said Shaban. ‘We’ve got to find Wilde - and the jar.’ He had already deduced that she couldn’t have rigged the grenade until after boarding the hovercraft - the risk of the spoon’s being jolted loose when she jumped from the 4×4 would have been too great. Which meant . . . ‘She must have hidden it. Come on.’

‘I, ah . . .’ The archaeologist couldn’t tear his gaze from the corpses. ‘I don’t feel too good.’

Shaban shoved him against the bulkhead. ‘If you want to stay alive, you’ll do what I tell you,’ he snarled, pulling him to the stairwell.

Still hunched behind the lift fan, Eddie glanced over the edge of the deck to look for an escape route. No luck. Wind-whipped flames from the damaged engine room were lashing from a hatch forward of his position, the heat and toxic smoke cutting the walkway off from the rest of the vessel.

Khaleel jogged towards him, automatic raised. In seconds, he would have a clear line of fire. Eddie didn’t have many options left - but any action was better than waiting to get shot.

He ran for the stern. The three huge propellers towered above him, blades a buzzing blur inside their circular shrouds. He might find cover behind the pylons supporting the engine nacelles, even a way back inside the ship to search for Nina . . .

Too slow. Khaleel cleared the lift fan, taking aim—

A shrill, ululating siren blasted from the superstructure. Someone had finally decided that the engine room blaze was out of control and sounded the alarm to abandon the hovercraft. The piercing wail made Khaleel flinch as he fired. The bullet seared past Eddie, close enough for him to feel its heat.

The gun’s slide locked back. Out of ammo. The Egyptian reached for a fresh magazine, but Eddie was already charging at him. Not enough time to reload—

Instead, his hand went to another weapon.

Eddie jerked to a stop as Khaleel jabbed a knife at his chest. The soldier struck again, slashing at his face. Eddie tried to grab his wrist - but he turned the blade to slice through Eddie’s sleeve into his already wounded forearm.

The Englishman pulled away in pain, and took a vicious kick to his stomach. Winded, he stumbled backwards, crashing against something at waist height.

The bottom of the propeller shroud.

Eddie swayed back, his head almost sucked into the giant blades. He shoved himself away - as Khaleel stabbed the knife at his heart—

He grabbed the other man’s arm, arresting the attack just before the tip pierced his chest, but the force of Khaleel’s charge drove him back against the shroud. The gale whipping round them forced both men to squint, eyes fixed on the knife.

Khaleel forced it towards his opponent’s throat, the double wound to Eddie’s forearm weakening his hold. He tried to push it away, but the most he could manage was to twist it to one side. The tip dug into his jacket - then cut deeper as Khaleel forced the knife down.

Eddie cried out as the point ground against his collarbone. Khaleel grinned and pushed even harder, leaning closer—

Eddie whipped his head forward. He wasn’t at the right angle to score a solid blow with a headbutt - but instead he clamped his jaws tightly shut on Khaleel’s nose.

The general screeched, pulling out the knife as he tried to draw back, but Eddie had too firm a hold. There was a hideous wet scrunch of cartilage as he ground his teeth. With both nostrils crushed shut, the only place the sudden gush of blood could go was into Khaleel’s throat. Choking, he spat blood across Eddie’s chest, the knife all but forgotten in his desperation to escape the pain.

Eddie refused to let go, worrying the flesh like a terrier. There was another revolting squish - then Khaleel lurched back, a bloodied hole where the end of his nose had been. Eddie spat the chunk of gristle into his eye, then with a roar shoved the Egyptian’s arm over his shoulder.

Into the propeller.

There was a clang as the knife was knocked out of the soldier’s hand - followed by a swat as his forefinger was sliced off at the first knuckle, exposing a jagged spike of bone. Khaleel screamed. Eddie slammed two powerful blows into his stomach, following them with an uppercut that sent him reeling.

They were right by the side railing. The quickest way to end the fight would be to toss the Egyptian overboard—

He seized Khaleel - and was almost blinded as the other man unexpectedly struck back, stabbing at Eddie’s eye with the end of his severed finger. Sharp bone slashed across his eyebrow as he jerked his head away.

The finger stabbed again, cutting his cheek - and Khaleel’s other hand clamped round his throat, tendons tight as metal cables. He spat out more blood and a foul Arabic curse. With one arm wounded, Eddie needed both hands to avoid getting the finger in a horribly literal way, giving Khaleel the chance to push him back towards the propeller.

‘I’ll kill you!’ Khaleel gargled, eyes bulging with demented fury. ‘I’ll kill you, and my dogs will eat your balls, and then I’ll fuck your wife before I—’

Eddie let go with one hand, taking the spear of bone across his temple as Khaleel overpowered his wounded arm - and swept up his good arm between the Egyptian’s legs to grab him by the crotch. Khaleel’s eyes bulged even wider as, with his own rage-powered burst of strength, Eddie flung him upwards.

The gale-force suction dragged him in. Khaleel’s skull was instantly pulped by the rapidly spinning blades, a red mist painting the inside of the metal shroud. The headless body slid back down over Eddie and slumped to the deck.

Eddie lowered himself out of the wind. ‘Keep your head, mate - oops, too late,’ he wheezed, checking the corpse. The Egyptian had holstered his gun after kicking him; he drew it, taking an extra magazine and reloading the weapon.

Wiping blood from his face, he looked round. Some of the crew were on the deck, but none were interested in him or their late commanding officer; they were instead attempting to get off the runaway hovercraft. One man climbed over the railing, trying to slide down the skirt to the ground - but instead he bounced off it, cartwheeling into the dust storm at a neck-breaking angle. His comrades decided they needed a new plan and hurried back into the ship.

Hefting the gun, Eddie searched for his own way inside.

Macy was just about keeping pace with the hovercraft - but through the heat haze she could now see a distinct line cutting across the landscape ahead.

The cliff.

The Zubr was only minutes from destruction.

She had seen people on the deck, but none was Eddie or Nina. ‘Come on,’ she said, bringing the Land Rover closer, ‘get off that thing!’

Clutching the canopic jar, Nina looked into the hold, and saw to her horror that a fire was spreading from a door at its port-side rear. Several men were in the large space, keeping well away from the flames as one operated a control panel. The front and rear ramps lowered, the gritty rush of wind through the hold sweeping the smoke out of the stern - but also fanning the fire.

One man ran towards the hold’s rear. Jumping out of the hovercraft’s stern offered more chance of survival - were it not for the blaze. The ramp was narrower than the hold, offset to port, and the growing flames were whipping down it. The crewman shielded his face - then sprinted for the square of daylight.

He mistimed it. A swirling gust of fire swept from the hatchway, setting him alight. The burning figure’s limbs flailed as he vanished into the sandstorm.

The remaining men were no happier with the forward escape route. One brave - or foolish - soldier took a running jump off the ramp, trying to reach the skirt and climb along it to the side. The reactions of the others made it clear that he wasn’t successful. But faced with a choice between slipping off and being dragged under the enormous vessel or the fire, they opted to take their chances, leaping from the ramp one by one.