‘Computer translations?’ said Eddie. ‘They always come out like the manual for a cheapo DVD player. “Having the insertions of disc in tray slot . . .” ’
Khoil prickled at the implied slight on his technology. ‘Qexia is much better than that.’ He faced Nina. ‘It will even make part of your profession obsolete. There will be no need to waste years piecing together scraps of data in order to find an archaeological site. Such as Atlantis.’ He gestured at the exhibits. ‘It took you how long to deduce its location? Years? Given the same data, my software could have found it in days. Perhaps even hours. Then all you would need would be strong arms to do the digging.’
Now it was Nina who bristled. ‘There’s more to archaeology than just assembling data,’ she said scathingly. ‘You need a broad base of knowledge in areas that might seem unrelated. When I worked out Atlantis’s location, I didn’t have all the facts, so I had to fill in the gaps based on my own experience - and intuition. A computer can’t do that.’
‘We’ll have to agree to disagree, then,’ said Vanita, joining Khoil. ‘I know the power of Pramesh’s software. It will change the world.’
‘So you are definitely not interested in my offer, Dr Wilde?’ Khoil asked.
‘I’m afraid not,’ said Nina. ‘If nothing else, it’d take all the fun out of the work.’
He shrugged. ‘As you wish. But I am sure the Codex will—’ He broke off at the approach of a woman holding a cell phone. She was Indian, dressed in a formal and slightly staid business suit, an employee rather than an executive. Her long dark hair was styled to cover, but couldn’t fully conceal, a scar slicing down her forehead over her right eye. ‘Yes, Madirakshi?’
‘The call you were waiting for, Mr Khoil,’ said the woman.
‘My apologies, but I must take this,’ Khoil told Nina. He stepped away, Vanita and Madirakshi following as he answered the call. ‘Yes? No, no change. As we discussed, yes.’
‘Bloody hell, I didn’t have any trouble hearing her voice,’ muttered Eddie, regarding Vanita. ‘And Christ, he sounds like he learned English from a Speak & Spell.’
‘Is everything all right, Dr Wilde?’ asked Boyce, with a hint of anxiety.
‘Fine. Just a minor misunderstanding.’
‘Happy to hear it!’
Another VIP asked Nina a question about Atlantis as Khoil ended his call and he and Vanita returned to the group, their assistant briskly departing. Eddie watched her go, noticing that now the presidential entourage and the Secret Service agents had left, the exhibition hall was noticeably less crowded. A clear social hierarchy was visible as a result: Boyce’s bodyguards and the building’s own security staff at the very edges of the room, with groups of PAs and secretaries and business underlings orbiting the centre where their bosses schmoozed and networked. The woman, Madirakshi, joined three Indian men in a far corner, one of them a bearded giant standing head and shoulders above the others.
He looked towards the high windows as Nina continued talking. There was a plaza outside, headlights dimly visible on the foggy street beyond. He hoped conditions would improve tomorrow; there wouldn’t be much point touring the city if they couldn’t see it . . .
He stiffened, suddenly alert as he registered that something wasn’t quite right. It was the headlights. They were pointing directly at the windows.
But the street ran past the exhibition hall, not towards it—
The headlights moved.
Coming at him.
‘Mr Mayor!’ he barked to Boyce. ‘Get security, there’s—’
The windows exploded under blasts of gunfire.
4
‘Everyone down!’ Eddie yelled, covering Nina with his body. Shattered glass spilled across the polished floor. The hall filled with panicked screams - which were quickly drowned by the roar of engines.
Several motorcycles charged into the room, their riders sheathed in black leather, faces hidden behind mirrored visors. More gunshots crackled as the riders spread out across the hall, firing MP5Ks in sweeps just above the guests’ heads to force them to the floor - then aiming lower to pick off specific targets. Blood-spattered bodies tumbled, the hall’s security personnel and the mayor’s bodyguards cut down.
Another engine, louder, a vicious snarl. A vehicle smashed through the remains of the windows and made a sweeping 180-degree handbrake turn, swatting aside people unlucky enough to be in its path and demolishing a display case. It resembled a Range Rover, only hugely bulked up and steroidal, thick bullbars protecting its front and rear and oversized tyres bulging beneath its heavy-duty suspension. A Bowler Nemesis, a powerful off-road racing vehicle that could outpace many sports cars - and do so over the most punishing terrain.
The bikes were also off-roaders, Eddie saw. The attackers had a getaway plan that would take them somewhere no police car could follow.
The Nemesis backed further into the hall, people on the floor scrambling out of its way. Some of the bikers dismounted, guns covering the crowd, while three rode towards Eddie and Nina’s position.
Nina’s gaze went to the Atlantean crown. Priceless, she had called it less than thirty minutes earlier - but now someone intended to find exactly what that translated to in the real world.
The bikers stopped and climbed off their machines, guns raised. No shouted orders, no demands, no threats. They had made their intentions perfectly clear - and another burst of fire from an MP5K as a prone security guard tried to draw his weapon hammered the point home.
‘What do we do?’ Nina hissed. ‘We can’t let them steal the crown!’
‘Y-yes, we can!’ Boyce said, voice quavering. He raised his head as the faceless trio approached. ‘I’m the mayor of San Francisco. Please, take what you came for and leave. Nobody else has to get hurt.’ Nina scowled at him, but knew there was nothing else they could do.
The Nemesis kept reversing. Its rear bullbar clipped another display case, which toppled over and smashed. The golden trident clanged across the floor as the big 4x4 stopped behind the three men.
They regarded the crown impassively . . . then at a gesture from the tallest of the trio, apparently the leader, moved to the next case.
The one containing the Talonor Codex. Through her fear, Nina felt a moment of shock. That was their objective?
Rowan’s reaction was a more exaggerated version of her own. ‘No, you can’t take it!’ he cried, springing up—
The leader shot him.
A bullet hit Rowan’s upper chest, slamming him back down with a spurt of blood. His head cracked against the floor.
‘Rowan!’ Nina screamed. Eddie forced her down as she tried to crawl to him. Her friend was still alive, feebly writhing, but blood was running down his shirt.
The leader fired a single shot at the case. The toughened glass splintered, crooked cracks radiating out from the bullet hole, but didn’t entirely break - until a blow from the butt of his MP5K finished the job. He lifted out the Codex, cradling the heavy book in his arms as another man went to the Nemesis and raised its hatchback. There was a large metal box inside, lined with foam rubber. He lowered the ancient artefact into it, then closed the case and slammed the hatchback shut. The off-roader’s engine revved.