“We didn’t know that,” Voltar said. “We knew nothing about the map until now.”
“Roland Hunt did,” Jemma said. “And tried to tell us.”
“Well now we have this.” Cassidy raised the journal. “And the map. Shall we do a Donald and get the duck outta here?”
Bodie grabbed Voltar. “Move.”
They turned tail. Cross leapt out into the corridor first, leading the way. The team followed hard at his heels. They swept down the corridor, Bodie dragging Voltar along like a big sack of shopping. They reached the top of the stairs just as a large contingent of Hoods and Illuminati raced from the other wing toward them, clutching papers, files and thick folders in their hands, everything they couldn’t afford to lose.
“Two minutes,” Cassidy said.
“Crap.” Bodie, last in line, waved them on down the staircase. As the Hoods approached he threw Voltar at them, letting the man windmill his way among their ranks. Bodies tripped and fell awkwardly, screams rang out. Illuminati tumbled together, papers and wallets flying. For a brief moment, white sheets filled the air. Walls still shook, the ceiling cracked as something began to build, a device or primer bombs designed to weaken the structure.
“You people,” Bodie said in disbelief. “You’re destroying your own house.”
He saw Cassidy staring up at him from the hall below as the others fled.
Then the building erupted.
CHAPTER FORTY TWO
Bodie heard the rumble, saw the walls shudder. The ground shifted. The stairs buckled. A Hood leapt for him, grabbing his chest and coming in for a head-butt. Bodie flicked him around, shrugged him off down the stairs. Then he leapt straight after the man.
One stair, then another and another. The wood splintered and heaved but he saw the way ahead. Another Hood was upon him, reaching for his collar. The swiftest of glances behind revealed the Illuminati struggling hard to follow, most of them scrambling or stumbling along. The top floor railing twisted and fell, crashing to the floor below. Bodie saw a large patch of the ground floor just tumble away, a stream of wood, concrete and rubble plunging downward in a lethal waterfall.
Another stair. Three from the bottom now. The Hood was uncaring of his peril, intent on impeding the intruder. Bodie put the brakes on for half a second just as the Hood lunged, saw the man tumble headlong straight to the floor and into another hole that had just opened up.
Through the new gap Bodie saw only emptiness and falling debris.
He paused on the last step, then took a flying leap and landed on the edge of the hole, teetering badly. His view ahead opened up and he saw the team battling the ongoing eruption to reach the front door. Gunn was down and then dragged to his feet by Cassidy. Jemma hit a wall and was steadied by Cross. Jeff fell and was scooped up by Cassidy’s other arm. The team fought on.
Bodie flung himself to the ground on purpose, gaining traction, but then the hole started to broaden. He could hear individual explosions now as the house was deliberately, carefully brought crashing down. Not just that, it was disappearing into the earth.
What the hell is below us?
A pit, it seemed. Bodie saw another chunk of floor cave in to reveal a rock wall and a long drop. Something below though. Something straight and hard, something familiar, now being covered by the rapidly disintegrating house.
A Hood must have leapt across the first hole, for now he struck Bodie’s back, sending the thief sprawling. Bodie hit the edge of another hole and put a hand out, scraping his flesh on sharp rubble. The Hood jumped onto his back, pummeling his ribs from above. Bodie bucked and heaved, got into position, then threw the man over his head and straight down the hole. Not even a scream marked his flight path.
Up again. Knees burning, ribs aflame and chest heaving. He was scraped bloody and feeling raw. A terrible clatter and crash sounded from behind and he assumed part of the first-floor had come tumbling down. Smoke billowed all around him. A body hit some remaining paneling at his side and fell forward end over end with its own momentum, dead and flailing.
Now the walls were dissolving. Another explosion and another. Bodie saw one wall buckle at the base and fall away, bringing a huge part of the house crashing down on top of it.
He scrambled through the mess, the smoke, the rubble. He trusted to luck for he had no other recourse. Ahead, Cross threw Jemma out into the street — the door and adjacent wall was missing. Cassidy hurled Jeff after the American and then carried Gunn out.
All around them, the street bucked and heaved.
Bodie noticed the houses on the other side of the street beginning to sag as the chain of explosions reached them.
Oh no…
No way would he make it that far. He was unlikely to escape the house. A chunk of masonry the size of a car smashed down close by, rocking and shaking and bristling with rebar. He looked up to see the high ceiling falling in, deadly wedges of concrete and timber tumbling down toward him.
Bodie had only seconds to think.
He looked back, saw the Illuminati pinned by wreckage and speared to the very ground by iron bar reinforcement and timber spears; saw the Hoods that weren’t crushed struggling valiantly to free their bosses even as a fatal heavy cascade deluged them; he looked forward to see his team still free, still running; left and right to see the collapsing, shattered world that remained.
And then did the only thing possible.
He jumped down into the pit beneath his feet.
CHAPTER FORTY THREE
By that time he’d seen the extent of the pit and understood exactly what lay below. It was still a long way to the bottom, but a pile of debris had built up that, whilst risky, was better than staying up top to be crushed or impaled.
Bodie leapt into space, clearing the ragged edges of the hole with ease. Twelve feet and he hit the top of the pile, absorbing the impact with his knees. Spears of pain shot top to bottom, jamming his nerve receptors and making him cry out in pain. The rubble pile shifted, blocks, fastenings and stonework falling away. A metal brace tore at his palm, drawing blood. He held his balance precariously atop the pile.
A small brick struck his back. Knowing it could just as easily have been a giant concrete ingot, he took his life into his hands, felt his heart soar into his mouth, and started to slip-slide down the sharp, uneven slope. A concrete block slowed him, a saw-tooth-edged pillar ripped his jeans and flesh. He bounced further down, still fifty feet off the floor of what he now knew was the Piccadilly underground line. He’d seen the maps when they were still intent on infiltrating the house; knew the tube ran under here somewhere. Now the entire house was blown from below, creating at least two holes all the way through the foundations and down to the well-traveled rails. Bodie only hoped the authorities knew.
A noise above and he glanced up to see that another Hood was on his six.
“Bloody bollocks, don’t you wankers ever give up?”
This Hood appeared to have a personality. “You try to be Jason Statham? Action hero? I show you what we do to action heroes.”
He plucked out a heavy block and tossed it down at Bodie. The Londoner scrambled to the other side of the pile, gripping rough edges to stop from tumbling. Around he went and then looked up again. The Hood was climbing down with little regard for safety, coming fast. Bodie dropped quicker, sliding down the pile on his side, one leg at full stretch, displacing dust, rocks and wreckage. Twenty more feet and he looked up. The Hood was just above him, boot coming down.
Bodie took it on his forehead, absorbing and ignoring the pain. He reached up fast, grabbed the ankle, and yanked hard. The Hood fell, suddenly beside him. Bodie sent two quick elbows to his face, both men lying sideways on the fifty-foot-high rock pile, surrounded by shifting death and rained upon by collapsing pieces of house. The Hood was bloody, one cheekbone broken. Bodie was finding it hard to breathe and could feel blood flowing from several wounds. He let the Hood come at him, then brought a hand full of rock smashing around straight into the man’s face. The body flinched hard, the hands lost their grip. Bodie kicked out and sent him flailing down the rest of the pile, faster and faster and end over end until he struck the tracks below.