Kirby was standing there with the gun raised in one fist, aimed right at Ben’s head.

‘What are you doing?’ Ben asked.

‘Put your pistol on the ground,’ Kirby said. ‘Nice and slow. No clever stuff

Ben hesitated, and eased the Jericho out from behind his hip. Dangling it on one finger from the trigger guard, he crouched down and laid it on the rock near his feet.

‘Good. Now put your phone down next to it,’ Kirby said. ‘That’ll come in handy for me.’

Ben took out the phone and placed it next to the gun.

‘And now the idol,’ Kirby said, with a glitter in his eyes as he glanced at the gold statuette in Ben’s belt.

Ben tugged out the artefact and put it down with a heavy, solid clunk.

‘Now step away from them.’

Ben stepped away. ‘You don’t want to be doing this.’

‘Yes, I do. I’m sorry. I can’t let you give away the treasure. It’s mine.’

Ben said nothing.

‘You think I’d have dragged myself after you and gone through all this just for glory?’ Kirby asked. ‘You think that’s all I’m interested in? You think that’s what Morgan and I were planning, just to get our names in some academic journal? Think again, soldier boy.’

‘I can see I really misjudged you, Kirby.’

‘You certainly did. And this is as far as you go. I’m sorry.’

‘No, you’re not. Why pretend?’

Kirby shrugged. ‘Heck, you’re right. I’m not really.’

‘Just a couple of problems. One, you’re stranded out here. You’ll never get out alive.’

‘I’ll take my chances. There’s always a way. I suppose you want to tell me the second problem?’

‘I’ll let you figure it out.’

‘Fine. I will. Got any prayers to say before I kill you?’

‘Not really,’ Ben said.

Kirby nodded. ‘OK. So it’s goodbye, Ben. Thanks for making me rich.’

Then he squeezed the trigger. He didn’t close his eyes, or flinch. Instead, he took his time, and did it properly. At that short range, even with a snub-barrelled handgun, it was impossible to miss a man-sized target. Ben saw the cylinder turn as the internal hammer levered back, the mechanism aligning the round in the next chamber with the firing pin as it came down to punch the primer under spring tension.

The dry click of the empty chamber echoed in the cave entrance.

Kirby stared at the gun. He fired again. Another click.

Ben hadn’t flinched either. ‘I’m still alive,’ he said. ‘Want to know the second problem now?’

Kirby clicked again, and again, gaping in open-mouthed horror at the revolver.

‘No use, Kirby.’ Ben reached in his pocket and opened his fist to show the.38 lead roundnose cartridges that rolled clinking in his palm. ‘Here’s your second problem,’ he said. ‘I just emptied your gun.’

Kirby’s eyes boggled.

‘I lied about having misjudged you,’ Ben said. ‘I knew ages ago that you’d pull a stunt like this after we found the treasure. I saw the way you were eyeing up Claudel’s mansion and his Ferrari, despite your whole hate-the-rich routine. I knew you weren’t really the sort who’d take risks just for glory. So I took precautions. I taught you that if you could see the cartridge rims between the cylinder and frame, the gun was loaded. But what I didn’t tell you was that it looks just the same loaded with spent shells. Why else would I have got you to fire off a few? For practice? I’m afraid not, Kirby. I just wanted some empty brass. So now you’ve gone and proved me right. And you’re in the shit.’

Kirby’s face was twisted and mottled as he searched for the right answer. ‘I was just k-kidding,’ he stammered. ‘It was just a gag, that’s all.’

‘You mean you knew it wasn’t loaded?’

‘No. I mean yes. I mean-’

The crack of a gunshot blasted through the silence. The top of Kirby’s head was blown away like a lid. Blood splattered on the cave wall. His knees crumpled and he collapsed straight down in a heap, like an empty suit of clothes. The revolver tumbled across the rock.

Ben whirled around.

Three men were standing in the moonlit cave entrance. One of them was holding an AKS with a wisp of smoke trickling from the muzzle.

But Ben hardly even registered him. He was looking at the man in the middle.

It was Kamal.

Chapter Fifty-Six

Kamal smiled. ‘And here we are again.’ His gaze landed on the gold statuette that was glimmering in the soft moonlight. He stepped over to it and snatched it up with a triumphant look. ‘It seems you’re always a step ahead of me,’ he chuckled. ‘And you have killed a lot of my men. A worthy adversary. There aren’t enough of them in this world.’ He motioned at Kirby’s corpse. ‘That’s why I didn’t want him killing you. I would like to reserve that pleasure for myself

‘I’m deeply honoured,’ Ben said.

Kamal gripped the statuette tight in his fist. ‘But, before I do, you’re going to show me where you found this.’

‘Die if I do, die if I don’t?’ Ben said. ‘You need to think that one through again, if you want my help.’

‘There are different ways for a man to die,’ Kamal said. ‘Some merciful, some less so. I think we understand each other?’

Ben didn’t answer. It was a straight choice. A slow, horrible death now, or a chance to buy some time and think about his next move. He didn’t need long to decide.

‘Fine, Kamal. I’ll take you to the treasure.’

Kamal put out his hand, and one of the men passed him a pair of stubby black tubular Maglite torches. He tossed one to Ben. ‘Lead the way. Emad, you go next and watch this son of a whore. Fekri, you follow me.’

Ben stepped over Kirby’s body. The moon’s reflection shimmered in the blood pooling on the cave floor. He walked back the way he’d come, down into the shaft, pointing the Maglite ahead of him. The terrorist called Emad followed with his AKS at Ben’s back. He was about thirty, muscular and volatile-looking. Kamal followed behind him, and the smaller, darker one called Fekri brought up the rear.

They walked. The bright white beam of the torch picked out every crag and crevice. The hard muzzle of the assault rifle dug into the small of Ben’s back.

Behind him, Kamal’s cold voice echoed in the tunnel. ‘Know that when I get the treasure, your Western world will change forever. My plans are complete.’

‘So regular terrorism is just a little too warm and cosy for you. Murdering innocent train passengers getting a bit stale. You want to move on to something bigger.’

‘You’ll never live to witness what I can do,’ Kamal replied. ‘But many will, and soon.’

‘It’s a lot of money to blow on Kalashnikovs and Semtex,’ Ben said. ‘But do you really think that’s going to change the world? You don’t think they’ll just hunt you down like all the rest?’

‘Kalashnikovs and Semtex are for children to play with,’ Kamal said. ‘I have something else in mind.’

‘And you’re dying to tell me.’

Kamal gave a short, humourless laugh. ‘How about the complete destruction of five major Western cities?’

He named them. And then he described how he was going to make it happen.

Ben’s step faltered. He made no reply.

Kamal sounded pleased. ‘At last. You begin to understand who you’re dealing with.’

‘You’ll never succeed, Kamal.’

‘No? And why not? You believe your Western security forces have any hope of preventing it?’

‘No,’ Ben replied. ‘I don’t believe they do. You’ll never succeed, because I’m going to stop you. You’ll be the baddest guy in the graveyard. That’s as far as you’re going to get. Believe me.’

‘Fine speech,’ Kamal said. ‘Very patriotic.’

‘I’m not interested in patriotism,’ Ben told him. ‘I don’t fight under a flag. I don’t care about oil or economics or politics, or any of the dirty double-dealing that gives elected gangsters the excuse to bomb someone else’s country and call it justice. I was part of that hypocrisy once, and I walked away. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let a damaged little rat’s arse like you murder millions of innocent people.’