Necropolis

the hopelessness of the task. There had to be at least two hundred cells in the prison. Were they really going to blow every one of them open? They came to a corridor with more steel doors set at intervals. A guard ran toward them, bringing his machine gun round to aim.
    "Drop the gun!" Jamie said. "Lie on the floor."
    The guard did as he was told. A second guard appeared. He was less fortunate. Lohan shot him down.
    They had been in the prison for less than three minutes, but they knew that reinforcements would already be on the way. There was another explosion upstairs, a scream, the clatter of bullets hitting metal.
    Thirty doors stretched out in front of them. There was no point looking for bolts or keys. Lohan rapped out an order and his men blew them open, one at a time, using balls of plastic explosive. Richard and Jamie continued forward as, one after another, the doors were smashed out of their frames, orange flames briefly flaring up. The corridor stank of cordite. Smoke and brick dust filled the air. But every cell was empty. How much more time did they have?
    "They're at the end," Jamie said suddenly. "The last door on the left."
    Lohan stared at him. But Richard nodded, relief surging through him. Somehow Jamie had managed to connect with them in his own way…telepathically. Lohan shouted something, and his men ran down to the door he had indicated. A final blast. It swung open. Two figures came out into the corridor, choking and covered in dust. It was Matt and Scarlett.
    "Matt!" Richard grabbed hold of his friend and embraced him. The night before, when he had pulled himself out of the water, he had been afraid that he would never see him again. "Are you okay?"
    Matt nodded. "This is Scarlett."
    "I'm delighted to meet you." Richard didn't know what else to say. He examined the girl with the close-cropped hair. She looked worn out.
    Jamie said nothing, but he went over to her so that the three Gatekeepers were together.

    "We have to get to the Tai Shan Temple," Matt said.
    Lohan was impressed. The boy was only fifteen, but already he had assumed command. The experiences of the past twenty-four hours didn't seem to have had any effect on him. But there was still more trouble to come. Quickly, Lohan took out his mobile phone, pressed a button, and spoke a few words. He waited until he had heard what he wanted, then he turned to Matt. "The temple is safe now," he said. "But we have another problem, and it may be more serious. There is a storm. In fact, my people are saying that it may be something worse…"
    But they had all become aware of it. Above the gunfire and the explosions, beyond the battle that was taking place inside the prison, the wind was screaming. The whole building was shuddering. The full force of the typhoon had fallen on Hong Kong, and its total destruction had begun.
    SIGNAL SIX
    The sun was setting in Cuzco, the ancient city of the Incas, in Peru. There was a band playing, and the sound of panpipes and the throb of drums rose up into the evening air. The shadows were stretching out over the foothills. The restaurants and caf were beginning to fill up at the end of another day.
    Pedro knew that they shouldn't be here. This wasn't Matt's plan. He wished that they had been able to speak over the satellite telephone, but for the past forty-eight hours there had been only silence. A whole world separated them. They were thousands of miles apart. But he was about to take the single step that would bring them together. He wondered if it was a good idea.
    Not that he had been given any choice.
    The night before, Pedro had woken up to find Scott leaning over him. The two boys were sharing a stone house in Vilcabamba, high up in the Andes. This was the lost city where Pedro had gone with Matt when they were hiding from Diego Salamanda. It was hidden above the cloud forest in an extraordinary location, a mountain peak that couldn't be seen by anyone. Getting there had involved a helicopter ride and then a one-day hike from
    Cuzco. The city itself could only be reached by a stone staircase that could vanish in a single moment.
    "Scott? What is it?"
    Scott was deathly pale, and his eyes were full of worry. Pedro had never seen him like this before.
    "Jamie's in trouble," he said. "We have to go to Hong Kong."
    "We can't—"
    "Pedro. You don't understand. We have to go straight away. I have to go to Jamie. I've had a dream."

    The dreamworld. All of them had been there. They all knew its