The Shroud of Heaven Read Online Free PDF

would survive the night. Perhaps with the care of skilled surgeons in a state of the art trauma center, the hand of the Reaper might be stayed, but here in the desert with only Kismet’s basic first-aid skills and even more rudimentary first-aid kit, it was foolish to entertain hope. He cradled her in his arms and waited for the inevitable silence that would follow her final gasp.
    “Bloody hell.”
    The low whisper from behind startled Kismet, but he did not let it show. Instead he turned his head slowly and saw Sergeant Higgins and two of the Gurkhas. Higgins was standing exactly where Hauser had been at the moment of the massacre, and was surveying both the carnage and the scattering of 5.56 millimeter brass casings on the floor. Higgins was solemn. “Did you do this, sir?”
    Unable to find his voice, Kismet shook his head.
    Higgins nodded slowly. “That’s good enough for me, mate.” His words carried the implication that Kismet’s denial might not be sufficient for the others who would eventually ask the same question. The Gurkha continued. “We’ve got to move out, sir. Something has happened. About half an hour ago, the northern sky—by that I mean the sky over Baghdad—lit up like the end of the world. I think it’s finally started.”
    Kismet eased the mortally wounded child to the floor and stood. “How did you get here?”
    “We ran, didn’t we?” Higgins managed a triumphant grin. “More like walked fast. We followed your tracks to the road. After that, it was trusting luck that we were going the right way and that you hadn’t gone too far.”
    “Luck.” Kismet looked around the chamber, at last spying his helmet and night vision goggles. “Let’s get moving. We’re going to need the devil’s own luck to get through this.”
    They filed back up the staircase with Kismet leading the way. A fourth Gurkha waited at the entrance to the ruin, a guard left behind by Higgins. With a nod to the sergeant, he fell in with the rest as they marched single file back up to the roadway.
    In the still desert night, Kismet could make out the sound of a distant vehicle engine, perhaps more than one. It might simply have been the sound of Hauser’s captured truck stealing away with the prize, but they couldn’t afford to make that assumption. They were deep in enemy territory.
    One of the Gurkhas approached Samir’s sedan cautiously, peering through the windows. Higgins turned to Kismet. “At least we won’t have to walk back.”
    The soldier tried the door handle.
    Do not try to follow…
    Kismet threw off his paralysis and started toward the car. “Get away from there…”
    The Mercedes suddenly split in two, lifting off the ground in an eruption of orange fire and black smoke. The shock wave slapped Kismet and the others to the ground and sucked the air from their lungs. He felt a heavy weight strike him in the chest—something warm and yielding—and reflexively pushed it away.
    It took only a moment or two for the stunned group of soldiers to recover. Higgins, the most senior among the squad, sprang to his feet, sweeping left and right with his weapon. “What the fuck was that?”
    The Gurkha sergeant was screaming, but Kismet could barely hear through the ringing in his ears. They had all been close to the blast, but none as close as the soldier who had triggered it.
    “Singh!”
    Kismet followed the line of Higgins’ shocked gaze and saw what was left of Corporal Sanjay Singh of the 6th Queen Elizabeth’s Own Gurkha Rifles.
    The blast had knocked him away from the detonation site a fraction of a second ahead of the flames. The live ordnance in his equipment vest had been triggered by the shock wave, but his flak jacket had directed the force of those secondary explosions away from his torso. Nevertheless, despite escaping the force of fire, Singh’s skeleton had been pulverized within by the release of energy, and his remains were now an almost-shapeless mass of smoking fabric and flesh