final piece of the bridge fell into place . . .
. . . as Stretch jumped into the manhole and the army of Germans charged over the bridge and the chase through the slipway system began.
The Ante-Chamber (Outward Bound)
Being the last person in a retreating formation sucks. You’re covering the rear, the bad guys are right on your ass, and no matter how loyal your team is, there’s always the risk of being left behind.
By the time the tall and lanky Stretch had landed in the long ante-chamber beneath the manhole, the others were already entering the slipway at the far end.
‘Stretch! Move it!’ West called from the slanted doorway. ‘Zoe’s gone ahead to trigger another sliding stone to run interference for us!’
As if to confirm that, a familiar
whump
echoed out from the upper regions of the slipway, followed by the rumble of a new sliding stone grinding down the slope.
Stretch bolted toward the slipway—as a dozen wraith-like figures rained down the manhole behind him, entering the ante-chamber.
Gunfire.
Rapid-fire.
Freed from the effects of the Warblers, the Europeans were now gladly employing live ammunition.
Stretch was done for.
He was still five steps away from the safety of the slipway when the first few Germans behind him went down in a hail of withering fire.
For just as they had fired, so too had someone else, someone standing guard in the doorway to the slipway.
Pooh Bear.
Holding a Steyr-AUG assault rifle.
The heavy-bearded Arab—who had last been seen getting cut off behind the previous sliding stone—waved Stretch on.
‘Come on, Israeli!’ Pooh Bear growled. ‘Or I’ll gladly leave you behind!’
Stretch staggered the last few steps into the slipway and past Pooh Bear just as a dozen bullet-sparks exploded out all around the stone doorway.
‘I thought you were dead,’ Stretch said, panting.
‘Please! It’ll take more than a
rock
to kill Zahir al Anzar al Abbas,’ Pooh Bear said in his deep gruff voice. ‘My legs may be stout, but they can still run with some speed. I simply outran the rock and took cover in that spiked pit, and let it pass over me. Now move!’
The Slipway
Down the slipway the Eight ran, dancing around the edge of the small spiked pit—the air filled with the rumble of the new sliding stone—then over the diorite pit that was the Second Gate. The cracked and broken remains of the first sliding stone from before lay strewn about its base.
The Eight swung over the diorite pit, hanging from the steel handholds they’d drilled into the rock ceiling earlier.
‘Noddy!’ West called into his radio mike when he landed safely on the other side. ‘Do you copy?’
There was no answer from Noddy, their man guarding the swamp entrance.
‘It’s not the Warblers!’ Wizard called. ‘There must be someone jamming us—’
He was cut off by six Germans who raced into the slipway and opened fire—
—not a moment before the large spike-riddled sliding stone loomed up behind them, rumbling over the doorway to the ante-chamber!
The six Germans ran down the slipway, chased by the sliding stone.
When they came to the spiked pit, one panicked and lost his balance and fell in, chest-first—impaling himself on the vicious spikes sticking up from the stone pit.
The others got to the larger diorite pit of the Second Gate too late.
Two managed to grip West’s steel handholds for a couple of swings before all five of the remaining German troops were either impaled on the spikes on the leading edge of the sliding stone or jumped into the diorite pit to avoid those spikes just as—
whoosh!
—a blast of churning white water shot across the pit, sweeping them away, screaming.
West’s team raced ahead now. The sliding stone had given them the lead they needed.
Having been blocked off momentarily behind it, and not having experienced the slipway before, the remainder of the German troops were more cautious.
West’s team increased their