The Valhalla Prophecy (17 page)

He looked up, trying to judge how far they had fallen. The slope was not quite vertical; he had bounced off several earthy steps as the rushing mud swept him down. The jungle at the top was hard to make out—thirty feet above? Forty? Not an easy climb, up or down, in the dark, slippery conditions.

But that did not mean he and Natalia were safe. Over the storm, he heard shouts from on high. Russian or Vietnamese, he couldn’t tell, but one thing was clear—they were getting closer. A shaft of torchlight stabbed out over the edge like a lighthouse’s beam.

Chase went to the dead woman. Where was her gun? He scoured the ground for telltale glints of metal, but saw only mud and stones.

No time to widen the search. He hurried back to Natalia and raised her to a sitting position, patting her cheek. “Natalia! Are you awake, can you hear me?”

For the first time, she responded, whispering something. Chase leaned closer, trying to catch it, but his knowledge of her language was too basic to understand what she said. “My name’s Eddie—your father sent me to rescue you,” he told her, hoping her English was better than his German. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

She spoke again, her voice barely audible. “
Mein
Vater
 … my father?” Her eyelids flickered as she tried to look at the man holding her.

“Yeah. Can you walk?”

Natalia wriggled, but there was no strength behind it. “
Nein
, no, I …” There was more, but it trailed away below the threshold of audibility.

“Guess not.” Straining as more aches and bruises made themselves known, he picked her up. Her head lolled against the radio headset, which had been partially dislodged by the fall. He nudged it back into place. “Hal, Hugo—can anyone read me?”

There was no response—not even static. He looked down at his belt to find the walkie-talkie missing, its headset wire dangling loose. “Shit!” He turned, searching for any faint glow of LEDs on the ground, but saw none. The Motorola was either broken by the fall or buried in the mud.

They were on their own.

He still had his backpack, which meant he also had a map, but getting away from their pursuers was his highest priority.

The vegetation along the foot of the cliff was sparse. There were thicker trees off to his right—to the east, he worked out, remembering what the map had shown him earlier. Going that way would take him away from the extraction point, but they needed cover. Natalia’s white robe, even rain-soaked and dirty, would stand out clearly from above. Raising her higher, he started for the denser jungle.

More lights shimmered through the trees above the top of the cliff. The shouts were clearer, closer. There had been no more gunfire, which he took to mean that Sullivan’s team had gotten the other hostages clear.

What about Hoyt? The thought of the American set an ember of anger burning in his stomach. If he saw him again …

He put ideas of revenge aside. They were unprofessional, and he had more important concerns—like survival.

The boundary of the overhanging jungle canopy was
about forty feet away. He lumbered toward it, feet sticking in the thick mud as if walking through a nightmare. Someone shouted urgently. Fear surged—had he been spotted? A glance back revealed the lights converging where the mudslide had rushed downhill. It would only be seconds before they realized what had happened and made their way to the edge of the ridge to look down …

Mud tugged at his boot. He pulled it free, almost losing his balance. Natalia gasped as she jerked back to wakefulness. He recovered and pressed on. Almost at the trees, wet bushes swatting at them as he pushed through. Another look back. The lights were picking their way down the slope toward the drop.

The rain’s pounding eased as Chase reached the shelter of the foliage overhead. But he still needed to keep moving until he and Natalia were blocked from view—

The beams lanced down into the valley as the searchers reached the edge. They swept across the undergrowth—then one flashed over him as a hunter’s sharp eyes caught movement. A shout. More lights locked on to the fugitives.

Gunfire—

Chase dived behind a tree, Natalia crying out as he landed on top of her. Bullets thunked against the bark. One of the Russians yelled furiously and the shooting stopped.

But now they knew where their prey had gone. And they would soon climb down to track it.

He risked a peek around the tree. The overhanging branches meant that the men from the camp no longer had a clear line of sight on him. That gave him a short window in which to move out and force them to search for his trail.

He picked Natalia up again. The thought of abandoning her did not even cross his mind. His job was to get her to safety, and he would do just that—or go down fighting.

The ground was muddy, but not as bad as it had been nearer the ridge. If he stayed close to the trees, he could use roots and stones to keep his footprints to a minimum.
Which way? He tried to recall the map. The cliff ran roughly north–south, parallel to a nearby river …

“Okay, hold on to me,” Chase told Natalia as he headed in what he hoped was the right direction. She managed to raise one arm and cling weakly to his shoulder.

He made his way as quickly as he could through the jungle. His feet sought out the unyielding firmness of rocks and roots, but sometimes he had no choice but to cross soft, wet ground. With Natalia’s weight added to his own, his boot prints would not be hard to spot. All he could do was keep changing direction in the hope of forcing their pursuers to waste time reacquiring his tracks.

Minutes passed. His progress was as good as it could be given the conditions, but Chase was all too aware that Natalia was slowing him considerably. And a look back revealed torchlight in the distance—on the ground, not above. They had descended the cliff and were on his trail.

A new sound rose above the storm’s din. Running water. They had reached the river.

Chase emerged from the jungle onto its edge. The river was swollen by the downpour, white froth gushing around the bases of the trees where it had burst its banks. More pale splashes on the far side told him it was about fifty feet wide, but it was impossible to know how deep it was.

No choice. The sure knowledge that the Vietnamese and Russians were getting closer every moment forced him to commit to his plan. If he didn’t cross the river, not only would he be hemmed in, but there would be no break in his trail. They would quickly catch up.

“Natalia?” he said. She turned her head toward him. “The men who kidnapped you are coming after us. We’ve got to cross this river to get away from them. We’re both going to get wet. You understand?”

“I
am
wet already,” she said with a sigh.

Chase gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Okay. Just keep hold of me. Here we go.”

He stepped into the torrent.

Even with only a few inches of water covering his boots, he could still feel the relentless pressure behind it. He continued onward. The river deepened with each step. No time to play games of bluff and double bluff with his pursuers to make them unsure if he was heading up or down the river; he needed to get across as quickly as possible, following a direct line to the far bank.

The rushing water was now up to his waist, every step a strain against the current. Cold spray splashed Natalia’s back. She gasped and tensed in his arms, the thin material of her robe providing no warmth. “Hang on,” he said. “This is where it gets
really
bad …”

Another couple of steps—and the riverbed dropped away underfoot, plunging them both into open water.

It was much deeper than Chase had feared. Natalia screamed, then the sound was cut off as her head went under the surface. The coldness of the water squeezed his chest like a giant’s hand. He raised his arms and pushed her back up, kicking furiously to hold position.

It wasn’t enough. The river was sweeping them along, deep enough that he couldn’t find bottom. Natalia gasped before being submerged again. A wave smacked against his face. He coughed, blowing water from his nostrils, then pulled his arm out from beneath Natalia’s legs while gripping her torso more tightly. Her head came up as her feet went down. She took in a choked breath.

With one arm free, Chase now had some control over their direction, however limited. “Keep your head up!” he spluttered, trying to raise the young woman higher in the water as he headed for the other bank.

“I’m trying!” she wailed. “I can’t see!”

She was close to panic. Chase steeled himself and thrashed his free arm to bring them around, then raised her as high as he could before leaning forward in the water. “Use your legs, kick! We’ve got to swim for it!”

It took her a moment to take in what he was saying, but then he felt her move, thighs beating first against, then in
time with his. The line of froth at the base of the trees slowly drew closer. “Keep going!” Chase shouted as the toe of one boot made contact with the riverbed. He scrambled for purchase, foot slithering in the submerged mud before finding grip. “We’re almost there!”

Natalia managed to bring up one arm, making increasingly powerful strokes as they neared the bank. Both the Englishman’s feet found solid ground. He took her weight again, the water dropping lower with each stride. “Yeah, yeah!” he grunted. “We did it, we’re there!”

He hoisted the young German up in both arms once more and half ran, half staggered the final meters to the bank. They entered the trees. The ground was far from dry, but to Chase it felt like a rocky desert. Panting, he lowered Natalia so she could lean against a tree. “Are you okay?”

“No,” she gasped. “I thought I was going to drown!”

“Close bloody call,” he agreed, coughing. “But we can’t stay here. They’re still coming after us.”

The shock of being submerged in chilly water had shaken her out of her drugged befuddlement. “Who is coming? What … what happened to me?”

“You don’t remember?”

“I … do not know.” A pause as she searched her memories. “We were traveling, then … they stopped us! Some bandits—”

“Yeah,” he cut in, “but they aren’t really bandits.”

“Who are they?”

“I don’t know, but some of them are Russian. I think they took your whole group hostage just to get you.”

“Russian?” she exclaimed, shocked. “But why would Russians …”

Her words trailed off. To Chase, it seemed as if some horrible realization had just struck her—but whatever it was, explanations would have to wait. “We’ve got to go. Can you walk?”

She pushed herself upright, wobbling before steadying herself. “I—I think so.”

“Good. Come on.”

He took her hand to lead her deeper into the jungle. She hesitated. “What … what did you say your name was?”

He looked back at her. “Chase. Eddie Chase.”

Even in the gloom, he saw that she had managed a small smile. “Oh—like Bond, James Bond?”

“
Better
than James Bond. Except for Roger Moore.”

That confused her, but: “All the same, I am very pleased to meet you … Eddie.”

“Don’t thank me until I’ve gotten you somewhere safe. You ready?”

“Yes.”

“Great. Let’s go.”

Despite Natalia’s insistence that she could walk, it was not long before she began to falter, the effects of her captivity and the exhaustion of the swim catching up with her.

And that was not all that was catching up. Their pursuers had followed their trail to the edge of the river—and crossed it. Shouts and flashes of torchlight warned Chase that they were moving through the jungle behind him.

They were spreading out, though. That meant they had not found his and Natalia’s tracks—yet. So far all his efforts had been put toward simply running, but now a new option presented itself. If the Russians and Vietnamese dispersed too widely, he might be able to slip through the gaps in their net …

Natalia suddenly cried out in pain, almost tripping. “What’s wrong?” Chase asked.

“I stepped on something sharp,” she replied, close to tears.

He crouched; she was holding one foot off the ground like a cat with an injured paw. Gingerly touching her bare sole, he found a large splinter of wood or bark jutting from it. He pulled it out and wiped away dirt, but there was not enough light to see if the puncture
wound was superficial or something more serious. “Can you walk?”

She lowered her foot, flinching and stifling a gasp as she put weight on it. “I think there is still a piece in my skin.”

Chase swore under his breath as he turned to locate the hunters. He got a long-enough view of one of the torches to judge its distance before it disappeared behind the trees. Less than two hundred meters away. And getting closer.

“I’ll carry you,” he said, picking her up. Another gasp, but this was of surprise. He set off again, glancing back every few steps to find their followers.

They were definitely fanning out. The current had swept Chase and Natalia farther downstream than the Englishman had intended, and so far it didn’t seem that anyone had found where they’d made landfall. The odds of escaping were increasing. Very slightly, but Chase would take whatever he could …