The Power of Five Oblivion

cold was masking some of the pain. “You have to forgive me, Scarlett,” he rasped. “I know you’d stop me and I can’t let you do that. Please tell Jamie, if I don’t see him, that I was thinking of him …”
    Scarlett wanted to move. She wanted to stop him from doing what he was about to do … whatever it was. But her body wouldn’t obey her. She couldn’t even speak. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lohan struggling to break the spell. He was still holding the knife. Jonas Mortlake was on the ground in front of them, his eyes closed.
    One step at a time, hunched over like an old man, Scott limped towards the cave. Scarlett noticed it for the first time. She saw the chain, the clasped hands, the five-pointed star and understood at once that this was one of the doors and that, somehow, it was the reason why all the other doors weren’t working any more. At the same time, she heard a faint buzzing sound coming from the chain and knew that whatever they did, none of them should touch it. But it was already too late because Scott was reaching out for it, and although she screamed at him to stop, no sound would come.
    Scott grabbed the ivory hands.

FIFTY-FOUR
    The door of the cell had been opened without making a sound. Despite everything, Richard must have dozed off because he only nodded awake when he felt a gust of warm air blowing in from outside.
    “Could you please get up, Mr Cole,” a voice commanded. “There’s something I want you to see.”
    Almost instinctively, Richard felt for the Inca knife, knowing that it was tucked into his belt, hidden from view. Nobody suspected that he had it. Perhaps this might be the moment to use it. He got to his feet. His legs and the back of his neck were stiff and he wondered how much time had passed. Minutes? Hours? The metal plate had been pulled back, revealing a corridor on the other side. Two guards dressed in black leather jackets and carrying misshapen clubs stood on either side. They looked human – with hungry, beaten-up faces – but they could just as easily have been shape-changers. Neither of them showed any emotion beyond a dull, lingering hostility. Neither of them had spoken.
    A third man stood between them: old, bald, wrinkled, wearing a suit with a silk scarf around his neck. Richard suspected that he didn’t have very long to live. He looked ill. His skin was an unnatural colour, as if the blood beneath it had somehow drained away, and his eyes were full of pain. He was the one who had given the order.
    “Who are you?” Richard demanded. “What have you done with Matt?”
    “Two very good questions,” the man replied. “If you’d like to follow me, I’ll answer them as we go.”
    Richard left the cell, passing between the two guards. They smelled bad, as did everything in the fortress … he assumed that was where he was. It was as if people had been living here for years without washing or cleaning, as if food had been left to rot, the cells and corners had been used as toilets, and dead and decaying bodies had simply been left where they fell. All these foul odours came together and attacked Richard as he stepped through the doorway. He found it hard not to gag.
    “I’m very pleased to see you,” the man said. Perhaps he had got used to the smell and didn’t notice it any more. “I’m chairman of the Nightrise Corporation. The new chairman. You may have met my predecessor in Hong Kong. You may even have been partly responsible for his early retirement. Let’s get moving. I’m afraid we don’t have a lot of time.”
    The chairman began to walk, wheezing a little as he went, and Richard fell in beside him with the two guards behind. Everything was bathed in the same blue glow which emanated from the walls and hung in the air. The corridor looped and began to climb upwards, then turned into a flight of stairs. It was like being inside a gigantic anthill. In the distance, Richard heard shouting, the hammering of metal against metal, then cheering and applause … the clamour of a crowd. His outer clothing had been taken from him, leaving him in only jeans and a shirt – but he wasn’t cold. There was a damp, animal heat inside the rock. He could see water, like sweat, glistening on the surface.
    “Where is Matt?” Richard asked.
    There was a great shout from the crowd. More metal hitting metal. Richard paused, afraid of what might lie ahead, then grunted as one of the guards punched him in the back, using his