Fault Line by Chris Ryan Read Free Book Online Page B

into the chamber. ‘Hello?’
    There was a click.
    Alex rugger-tackled Paulo to the ground. There was a flash and a bang, and a piercing whistle as something ricocheted off the walls.

7 R OBBER
    They heard Amber’s voice from far away on the surface. ‘Are you OK?’
    Alex shouted back through the open door, ‘Yes.’
    A smell of cordite and gunpowder filled the tiny space. Paulo retrieved his torch and shone it around. A shotgun stood on the floor, its barrel propped up by rocks. A branch lay in front of them, vines linking it to the trigger. It must have been wedged in the door, ready to fall if it was opened. A booby trap. And it didn’t look like it had been set by the ancient Maya.
    Alex found his torch and went for the weapon. It was an old shotgun. Alex knew the type – it held just one round at a time, so it wasn’t about to go off again. The wood was battered but the barrel wasn’t rusty. It was a working, well-maintained weapon. He broke the breech and pulled out a spent red cartridge.
    A voice babbled angrily from the darkness. Paulo swept the torch around the room. It met two glistening eyes at floor level, blinking back at him. Dense black hair, frosted with dust. Thick Indian lips revealing missing teeth. A sweat rag tied around the forehead.
    ‘Hello,’ said Paulo. ‘Nice welcome. Do you speak English? Espagnol? ’
    The man looked at them blankly and then spoke a few words.
    Alex looked at Paulo. ‘Is that a Spanish dialect?’
    Paulo shook his head. ‘It’s like nothing I’ve ever heard.’ He flashed the torch over the man. He was lying next to what seemed to be a sarcophagus. A large flat slab of stone, about two metres long, had fallen onto the man’s leg and pinned him to the floor.
    ‘A tomb robber,’ said Alex. ‘It looks like he was trying to move that slab. He’d closed the door so he wouldn’t be seen and rigged it so that if anyone came in they’d get shot. Then the earthquake hit.’
    ‘Watch him,’ said Paulo, ‘while I check his injuries.’ Although the robber probably couldn’t hurt them, they weren’t going to take their safety for granted after such a greeting. He certainly seemed to be looking at Paulo and Alex with hostility. ‘I hope he hasn’t got friends outside who’ll come and sort us out.’
    Alex leaned against a stone chest. It put him above the man’s eye line. All the better to reinforce the idea that they were in control, just in case. ‘No, I think he’s working on his own. Otherwise why the booby trap?’
    The robber glared at Alex, then flinched away from the bright torch. Alex kept the light on him for a little longer than he needed to. Being shot at made him a bit unsympathetic. The sarcophagus behind hardly seemed to be worth the bother anyway. From what Alex could see it contained only dusty skeletons of birds and a few pieces of pottery.
    Paulo got to work. Years of tending injured animals on the ranch had made him a natural medic, and he’d been on courses since. First, was there any bleeding? No.
    ‘Shall we move that slab?’ asked Alex.
    ‘Yes,’ said Paulo. Then he changed his mind. ‘No. Wait a minute. Let me think.’ A little voice was telling him to be careful with crush injuries. Damaged muscles released toxic chemicals into the blood-stream. When you released the patient, these would flow out of the trapped limbs and could prove fatal. But Paulo had a feeling this case would be OK. Why? he asked himself. You couldn’t go on a hunch when a man’s life might be at stake. It came back to him. It would be all right because the injured man had been trapped for only a short time.
    ‘Are we moving this thing or not?’ said Alex.
    ‘Yeah.’ Paulo bent down and Alex went to the other side.
    The man let out a cry as they took hold. ‘It’s OK,’ said Paulo. ‘We won’t hurt you.’
    ‘We don’t bear grudges, after all,’ added Alex.
    They pushed. The slab was heavy but they managed to lean it against the sarcophagus.