The forbidden temple, p.14
The Forbidden Temple, page 14
part #16 of Sean Wyatt Series
A deep boom erupted from the next room as the wireless detonators did their work, blowing the explosives with immediate effectiveness. A cloud of dust rolled through the doorway and spilled into the antechamber, mingling near the ceiling with the remaining smoke from the bonfire.
Brock lowered his hands, using one to disperse the dust by waving it around. His actions did little to get rid of the irritant, but he kept at it until the dust had settled, at least somewhat. Then he stepped around the corner and peered through the doorway.
Just beyond a dying cloud of dust, he could see the damage they’d done to the wall of Vault B. To the right of what was considered by most an impenetrable gate, a door had been created in the stone. The portal was about six feet tall and three feet wide, replacing the vent with a much larger version.
Brock stepped forward and raised his flashlight, casting the white beam through the heavy dust particles and debris. At first, he couldn’t see much through the haze, but he pressed forward until he reached the lip of the new doorway. He stared through the short tunnel.
Beyond was something his eyes could scarcely believe.
He’d done it. Brock had broken into the forbidden vault.
17
Thiruvananthapuram
Brock took a wary step forward. He renewed his grip on the pistol at his side and held it at his waist as he moved through the opening Heather had blown through the wall.
“You sure you don’t want me to go first?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. I’ve waited for this day, the day I could get my hands on this incredible treasure.”
He held his flashlight aloft, just over his shoulder, sending the bright beam through the settling dust and into the next room. At first, there wasn’t much to see through the dirty fog. Then he caught a glint of something shiny with a hint of yellow. He didn’t need to ask. Brock already knew what it had to be. Gold.
Cautiously, he pointed the flashlight down onto the floor as he reached the other side of the wall and paused for a moment. His hand twisted as he aimed the light in all directions, checking to make certain there were no traps set long ago that would ensnare him and his partner.
What he glimpsed was something that he could have never imagined in a hundred years.
The tiles on the floor were layered in pure gold, as if hewn from a mountain of the precious metal and carved in place, here, in this holy cache. The walls were the same stone as the previous chamber but with reliefs of golden trees, animals, and people carved into it. An ancient story unfolded around them, laid out in golden majesty. There was a sky, too, higher on the walls. Clouds of gold hung in the heavens, surrounding the gods of the Vedas and Hindu lore.
Bronze censers stood atop marble pedestals along the wall, six in all, evenly spaced to fully immerse the room in their bittersweet scents. Between each pedestal, lined up one end against another, were huge wooden chests made from thick oak. The handles were coated in gold filigree. Each overflowed with piles of golden coins, cups, candles, jewels, crowns, and gem-studded necklaces.
Brock caught himself holding his breath as he took in the sight. Heather, too, had stopped breathing as she gazed upon the incredible vision before them.
“They said this vault contained trillions of dollars’ worth of wealth,” Brock whispered. There was a sort of reverence in his voice.
“Enough money to buy several countries,” she remarked.
He nodded. “All a distraction from the true treasure in this room.”
His eyes fixed on something in the back, standing alone against the far wall. His feet moved without a command or a thought, but with a desire. They carried him across the spectacular golden floor, passing the chests of nearly unlimited wealth.
The vault was around one hundred feet long and about half as wide. If he hadn’t been so focused on the item in the back, he would have easily been distracted by the enormity of the treasure around him.
But Brock knew better. In the days of his youth, he’d wanted to be rich and famous. They were the two motivating factors that had driven him to work as hard as he had to become the person he was. Yet there was something deep down inside that burned, a flickering truth that kept his eyes locked on the one thing in the back he was there to retrieve.
That truth was simple. No amount of money would do him or anyone any good if the world was destroyed by mankind. With the seas dying, the forests vanishing, and species of animals becoming extinct every passing day, all the money and treasure in the world would be useless when there was no food to eat, no water to drink, and no safe place to hide.
He floated by all of it, walking on air as he crossed the room. He slowed, involuntarily, when he neared the strange object. He came to a complete stop a few feet before it and let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d taken.
Heather came up beside him and halted. She’d been just as reverent in her crossing of the room, not out of religious respect but out of sheer astonishment. She’d never imagined a place like this could exist anywhere on the entire planet.
“Is that it?” Her voice remained quiet, just above a whisper, as if worried she would wake some ancient spirit or deity from a long slumber.
Brock dipped his head. “Yes.” He took another step closer, shining his flashlight on the object. It gleamed in the light, flashing a yellowish glow that splashed off the treasures surrounding it. “The Trishula. The trident of Shiva.”
He was overcome with the feeling that he should kneel before such a holy weapon, but he wasn’t a religious man and the notion quickly faded from his mind. Still, he couldn’t help but feel some kind of terrified respect.
The golden trident stood almost five feet tall, fixed into a hole in the floor that was the exact diameter of the shaft. As he’d seen in renderings, from thousands of years old to more recent, the entire weapon was made of pure gold. The Trishula alone would likely fetch millions of dollars, but that wasn’t his purpose for being here. He did not intend to hawk the weapon to the highest bidder on the black market, or any other market for that matter.
He put the pistol back in its holster and took one last step toward the golden weapon, eyes unblinking, focused completely on the mysterious object. He hesitated for a second when his fingers were mere inches away from the shaft.
“What’s wrong?” Heather asked.
He blinked after what seemed like an hour, his eyelids grinding like sandpaper across his eyes. His breaths came in short, shallow bursts, barely giving his lungs enough air with each rise and fall of his chest.
“This is the most powerful weapon known to mankind,” he whispered. Despite keeping his voice low, the hissing of his voice still echoed off the walls and resounded for several seconds until dying away in the darkness around them. “This room, this treasure, this…trident, have not been seen in millennia.”
She knew the history he’d shared with her. The stories of how the temple was built and the treasure it contained. Most of the structure around them wasn’t thousands of years old. This room, however—Vault B—was different. Something about it told the two visitors that it was far older than the building around it. She had the distinct feeling it went back more than a few thousand years.
“With this trident,” Brock said, “I will restore balance to the world. I will end those who seek to destroy it with their intentions or neglect. Billions will die so that those of us who understand this planet, and love it, can survive.”
His fingers wrapped around the golden shaft, and he pulled up on it. Surprisingly, the weapon came out of its housing with ease. Brock held it aloft for a moment and gazed at the two curved outer forks of the trident. The sharp beveled edges narrowed to lethal points on the tips.
Suddenly, a grinding sound came from the wall. His eyes filled with fear as he glanced down at the hole in the floor. His breathing quickened as he glanced back at the door, forgetting for a moment that they hadn’t come through the main portal. The entry they’d blown through the wall was still intact. Why wouldn’t it be? He cursed himself for wasting precious seconds instead of trying to get out of what appeared to be some kind of elaborate deathtrap.
“What is that?” Heather asked, her head twisting around in all directions trying to locate the source of the rumbling. “Should we maybe get out of here?”
He nodded and took a step toward the exit. Then the sound changed. They could hear stone grinding on stone. It was coming from the wall behind where the Trishula had been standing.
Brock lingered, staring at two massive square blocks receded into the wall. His scowl softened to a look of avid curiosity. He pointed his flashlight to the closest cavity and watched with wonder in his eyes as the block lowered from view, revealing something shiny on the inside.
He bent over at the waist and gazed into the hole, shining the light inside to get a clear view.
“What is it?” Heather asked, forgetting there was a new recess to the right she could have easily looked into.
Brock swallowed and stuck his hand inside.
“Are you sure that’s a—”
“It’s fine,” he said, not letting her finish her question.
“Okay.” She wasn’t convinced.
He twisted his arm, jerked the shoulder, and began to pull something out.
When his hand emerged, a helmet of pure gold was clutched in his fingers. It was fitted with a piece of onyx in the forehead panel. The crystal was shaped like a teardrop.
Brock straightened up and extended the hand that held the trident. “Here,” he said. “Hold this for a second.”
She did as instructed, taking the weapon by the shaft with great care. She watched as Brock slipped the helmet onto his head and shifted it around until it was in place. It fit perfectly, almost as if it was made just for him.
Then he put out his hand once more, silently requesting the Trishula. She returned it and stared at him.
He raised the trident and inspected every inch of it, appraising the weapon with both admiration and fear. His eyes stopped on something along the shaft that was positioned midway down it. He frowned for a few seconds before he realized what he was seeing.
“What’s that?” Heather asked.
A wicked grin parted his lips. “The trigger.”
“Trigger? What does it do?”
Her question was abruptly interrupted by shouting in their earpieces.
“Sir, we need to move!”
It was the bodyguard they’d left at the front gate.
“Multiple targets coming in hot.” His voice was cut off by the sound of gunfire. “Repeat. Multiple—”
The distant popping sound continued for another moment and then faded as quickly as it had started.
“Sir?” Tre’s voice came through the radio. “They’re coming in through the front gate.”
Brock didn’t need to be told who was coming. He knew. Heather did as well. The commandos had been called in. By who didn’t matter. Brock figured this would happen if they didn’t move fast enough. Now they were trapped. At least that’s what the enemy would think.
What the commandos didn’t realize was that they were running headlong into their own doom.
“What’s in the other hole?” he asked in a hurried tone.
She ducked down and looked inside, then shoved one hand into the cavity. She removed a similar helmet, though slightly smaller. It, too, was fitted with a teardrop of onyx in the forehead.
“Put it on,” he said.
She frowned, doubting what good that would do. “It’s lighter than I thought it would be,” she said, donning the protective gear. Once the helmet was in place, she looked to him. Despite the piece being incredibly lightweight for gold, it was still awkward to wear.
The matching helmets were designed with a cone shape at the top. They fit over the ears and the back of the head, halfway down the neck. Brock thought it odd that there were no ear holes, but he didn’t have time to concern himself with the design of the helmets.
“Now what?”
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s see how this thing works.”
He started toward the hole they’d blown in the door, but she stopped him. “No, wait. You heard the guys. Reinforcements are on their way, and you know what that means. The commandos have been called in. I can’t take them all, even with your help.”
He smirked at her and shook his head. “I don’t expect you to. Like I said, it’s time to see how this thing works.”
He trotted toward the door, leaving his gear bag on the floor at her feet. She shook her head and picked up both bags, slinging them over her shoulders in a crisscross manner that created an X on her chest with the straps.
The two made their way past the charred bodies of the snakes and the dead cop, to the base of the stairs leading up to the second chamber. They saw Tre standing at the top with his back to them, gun pointed toward the exit.
He heard the commotion below and turned his head in time to see Brock and Heather, wearing golden helmets, rapidly climbing the steps.
Tre gave a nod, glad to see his employers were still alive and okay. He noted the trident in Brock’s hand with a skeptical frown.
“Is that what you came for?”
Brock nodded. “It is. Come on, we have to move.”
He headed for the door, but a firm hand clapped him on the shoulder. “They’re coming, sir. There’s no way out.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Brock shrugged off his henchman’s grip and charged forward toward the door. He passed through the first portal and entered the primary chamber where the staircase to the first vault was located.
Heather and Tre rushed after him. They skidded to a stop at the entrance to the chamber. Brock slowed to a stroll and looked around the corner. He didn’t see anything, nor did he hear anything.
He shuffled out into the corridor and began walking toward the courtyard.
“What are you doing?” Tre protested, but it was too late. Brock was striding toward the opening at a quick pace.
Tre shook his head and rushed out to keep up. Heather was right behind him, taking a sidelong glance over her shoulder at the passageway in the other direction. No sign of trouble yet, but she knew that was about to change. No doubt, the commandos were sweeping the complex, spreading out to cover the entire area and then close into the center, tightening the noose until there was nowhere for the intruders to go.
Up ahead, Brock reached the T-junction in the passageway. To the left was the way out. To the right led deeper into the temple, probably to some prayer rooms and dorms. Those were just guesses, and it didn’t really matter unless there was another way out in that direction.
Brock looked both ways and then moved left into the courtyard. High walls surrounded the grassy area, which was now littered with dead bodies.
Heather paid no mind to the corpses on the stone floor of the corridor as she crossed the tunnel and entered the courtyard. Tre was at her side and breathing heavily. He looked around as he and Heather put their backs to Brock and held their weapons out, arms fully extended.
Brock stood still, gripping the trident in both hands, a grim, resolute look on his face.
The courtyard was surrounded by high walls. Tree branches hung over the top in a few places, dangling dark green leaves into the courtyard. At the moment, all was still, seemingly in the entire facility. No breeze rustled the tree branches. No sounds of trouble echoed throughout the corridors.
It was an eerie peace, a calm before the storm. Brock knew as much, though he doubted his companions felt as much comfort as he. Brock held their escape in his hands. He didn’t expect them to understand. They hadn’t done the studying he’d done, spent time learning about the all-powerful trident of Shiva. In his fingers’ grasp, he clutched a weapon of the gods. No number of guns could save his enemies from that.
The peace was broken in seconds.
He and his comrades heard the shouting first. It was followed closely by footsteps, boots clapping on the tiles of the passageways as soldiers charged through the building, drawing ever closer to the intruders’ position.
“We can’t take all of them, sir,” Tre said. “We’re going to have to surrender.”
“No,” Brock said. “When they get here, they will encircle us, yes?”
“I would.”
“Good. Let them surround us, and then lay down your weapons when they tell you to.”
Tre looked over his shoulder at the man to his back. Brock was still staring straight ahead. The moon peeked out from behind black clouds that beset the night sky, casting a shimmering golden glow from his bizarre helmet.
“I thought you just said we’re not going to surrender.”
“We’re not. I’m simply telling you to let them think we are.”
Tre turned back to face the oncoming enemies. “I hope you have a plan, boss,” he muttered under his breath.
18
Thiruvananthapuram
Brock shifted his feet so he could face the courtyard entrance to the temple. He watched as the silhouettes of the commandos hurried down the corridors. One of them was shouting and pointing in Brock’s direction. With the golden helmets he and Heather had donned, there was no way their triumvirate would go unnoticed.
Within seconds, armed commandos and the remainder of the police guard poured into the courtyard. Like ants flooding out of a mound, the soldiers surrounded the three intruders in mere seconds, each one holding a submachine gun or sidearm with sights firmly aimed at the thieves.
One of the men, apparently the guy in charge of the guard, stepped forward. He wore a crimson beret and held his weapon tight against his shoulder as he stopped a few feet in front of a line of his men. There were easily fifty guns trained on Brock and his partners, yet the blond man seemed unfazed.
“Put your weapons down and get on the ground!” the commando leader shouted, never letting his gun waver. It didn’t even bob an inch as he stepped forward. His clean-shaven face was tight, clenched in a stern glare.
