He looked at Dmitri, but the man’s eyes were fixed somewhere else.
Sam said, “The first time was in the lost city of Atlantis, where Dr. Billie Swan was rapt with a set of numbers she found on a wall of obsidian that served no apparent purpose. I questioned her about it afterward, but she shrugged it off, as simply being an interesting set of numbers. I took a photo. Three days later, Billie said she wanted to follow a new lead and disappeared for good. So now, I’ll ask you again, where did those numbers take her?”
Sam’s hand was fixed rock solid as he pointed the Glock at Dmitri. “Where? God damn it!”
Dmitri remained silent. His face set in a hard and impassive expression. His eyes, seemed to be watching something.
Sam’s eyes darted between Dmitri and the Death Mask.
Something about the skull seemed different. The skull never changed. Of course it didn’t, the ancient relic was an inanimate object, right? Only, somehow, there was something different about the eyes.
Sam focused on them. They had turned more sinister, somehow. Were they mocking him? He shook his head, knowing the skull hadn’t changed shape at all. But still the feeling that there was something different about the eyes increased… then he realized what it was…
Was it warning him?
That was it. The skull was preparing him for something terrible and warning him against a tremendous evil. He felt his sixth sense go into overdrive. His skin was riddled with goosebumps. Adrenaline surged throughout his body.
Had Death tricked him, somehow?
Sam considered shooting the man right away. It might be the safest course of action. Instead, he heard a voice from behind tell him to put the weapon down and turn around. Sam turned slowly and put the Glock down on the floor — because the ghost at the end of the tunnel had just risen and was now pointing a shotgun directly at him.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Sam stared at the ghost.
It wore the same yellow Gore-Tex climbing jacket, lined with bullet holes. That’s where the similarities with the body of the dead climber ended. The man in front of him had a slightly gaunt and ascetic face, with a patrician nose and unusually high cheekbones. Sam spotted the crucifix hanging round his neck and at its center a horse of pure obsidian.
Sam recognized the third horseman — Famine.
“Mr. Reilly, I cannot begin to tell you how much I appreciate you rounding up each of the Four Horsemen for me.” Famine smiled. “You have no idea how long I’ve searched for these.”
“Are you forgetting someone?” Sam asked. “I see Death standing there, and you are already practically emaciated, so I’ll take your word for it — you’re Famine. I’m carrying War. But I don’t see Conquest, do you?”
“Let’s just say Conquest will join us soon,” Famine said. “Now, I’ll have you place War in its recess.”
Sam paused for a second and Famine shot Death in his left knee cap. The bony fragments splintered into more than a dozen shards.
Death let out a deep, guttural roar. It lasted seconds and then was over; the practiced silence of a lifetime of pain and discomfort.
Famine grinned. “I’ve wanted to do that to you for a few centuries now.”
Death remained silent.
“Okay. I’m placing the War pendant into its recess,” Sam said. “But I happen to know for a fact that Billie Swan wears Conquest, so you’re still one short.”
Sam quickly removed the pendant from his neck and placed it in the obsidian recess.
“Good.” Famine pointed the shotgun at Tom. “I’ll have you take Death’s pendant and place it in the recess now.”
Tom glanced at Sam. He nodded. It was okay, there was nothing else they could do — yet. Tom removed the pendant and Death, his wrists still restrained with the cables, let him. Tom then placed the Death pendant into its stone recess.
Famine removed his own pendant and threw it at Tom. “While you’re there. I wonder if you’d be kind enough to place this one, too.”
Tom nodded and placed it.
Nothing happened. The Death Mask remained cold. The three horsemen warmed up inside their placements, like horses preparing for battle, while the last of their army failed to show.
Sam asked, “Now what?”
Famine stared at him with a glint of conceit. He then removed a second pendant. This one was made of ivory and depicted a horseman carrying a broadsword and a crown. Conquest. “You didn’t really think I’d come all this way, and, as they say, play all my cards, if I already knew I was one pendant short of winning?”
Dmitri glanced at Sam. “How could you of all people have been so stupid to allow all Four Horsemen to gather at the temple?”
Chapter Fifty-Six
The next few seconds happened fast.
Sam was approximately seven feet from Famine and Tom closer to ten. He glanced at Tom. No words were spoken. Their eyes met each other with perfect honesty. There were few options left and none left much chance of survival. Each accepted the only outcome with magnanimity. A simple belief system and rule they each followed throughout their lives, which meant good must overcome evil at all costs — sacrifice was the ultimate litmus test of honor.
They dived at Famine.
It would take less than one of those feet for Famine to squeeze his shotgun’s trigger. Both Sam and Tom were betting that in the process of dying, one of them might reach the murderous creature and kill him before taking their final, agonal breaths.
Famine met their attack with unrestrained disbelief. He jumped backward, adding more distance for them to cover, and rounded the shotgun to meet them.
Sam heard the three loud bangs of gunfire next. Adrenaline surged through his body. He subconsciously tensed his body in expectation of pain from the shotgun blast ripping through his earthly flesh and he dived the remaining three feet to close the distance between him and Famine.
The shotgun blast was the next thing he heard — the sound of his own death.
He fell on top of Famine. His hardened fingers tearing at the man’s windpipe. A split-second later, Tom landed on the other side of him. The thunderous echo of weapons firing in the small tunnel, was suddenly replaced with total silence.
Death said, “It’s over.”
Sam shifted his position on Famine’s throat. The man’s entire body was still. His muscles were flaccid and blood ran down his chest and abdomen.
In an instant, Sam took it all in. Famine, distracted by Sam and Tom’s advance had swung his shotgun round to stop them dead. At the same time, Death took the opportunity to dive to the ground where Sam had thrown his Glock. Then, instead of shooting Tom and Sam, Famine had to fire at Death. A split second before the shot was taken, Death fired three rounds, killing Famine instantly.
But a shotgun shot was fired…
Sam turned to Dmitri, who was still lying on the ground, where blood ran freely from the spread of shot pellets which littered his lower torso through to his feet.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Sam and Tom rushed to Dmitri’s aid. His eyes swept the man’s injuries at a glance. The spherical pellets of shot spread out from his lower torso to his feet. Blood dribbled from each wound. There simply were too many to plug. If they were right next to a trauma hospital with a team of surgeons, his chance of survival was about fifty-fifty. Buried deep inside Mount Ararat, where it would take more than two hours to reach a hospital, the outcome was foregone.