Panic crossed Cheng’s face. ‘I . . . I can’t,’ he whispered. ‘I want to, I know I have to, but – I can’t!’ The last was almost a gasp. ‘I’m . . . I’m scared.’

Nina felt both sympathy and impatience. ‘I know, and I understand – but I can’t wait for you to pluck up the courage. If you drop down, I’ll catch you, but you’ve got to do it now.’

His wide-eyed gaze flicked between her and the chasm. ‘I – I’m sorry, Professor. I can’t do it!’ He screwed up his eyes.

‘Okay, it’s okay,’ she assured him. ‘You come down when you feel ready. But I’ve got to go.’ She turned to resume her descent.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said again, before adding with strained humour: ‘This won’t affect my grades, will it?’

‘I think you’ve already earned an A,’ she said with a smile.

He managed to return it, just. ‘Good luck.’

She continued down the spiral. A crowbar-sized length of metal lay upon it, one of the broken support struts. On impulse she picked it up. As a weapon it was no match for a baraka, but at the very least, it might crack a giant’s kneecap . . .

Her confidence slightly bolstered, she resumed her descent.

The Chinese sniper moved carefully into the smoke, panning his weapon. Nothing on the thermal scope, but it wouldn’t be long before the surviving Nephilim ran out of places to hide . . .

A white flare against the black. He snapped the rifle towards it. Another of the monsters who’d left the chamber just before the attack peered through the archway.

His crosshair intercepted the ghostly shape – and blood sprayed in a hot glowing fountain as he put a .300-calibre Winchester Magnum round through the towering Nephilim’s skull. Target down, and he brought the rifle around to search for more—

Footsteps, worryingly close.

The sniper whirled to see another inverse silhouette just metres away. His finger tightened on the trigger—

And eased. It was no giant. One of his comrades had been disoriented by the fog. ‘Hey, over here,’ he said. The glowing figure came towards him. He lowered the gun, seeing the approaching man take on form through the smoke—

He wasn’t Chinese.

Eddie stepped up to the startled sniper and stabbed the four-inch blade into his throat.

It punctured his windpipe. The man let out a choked gasp, unable to scream a warning. The Englishman forced the blade across his neck, severing his trachea and slashing a carotid artery. The soldier dropped like a wet sack, blood gushing from the wound. Eddie dragged him back to the stone booth. It took all of Barney’s willpower not to yell in shock as the twitching body was dumped before him. The Yorkshireman held up the bloodied multi-tool. ‘Want this back?’

The ranger recoiled. ‘You keep it, mate!’

Eddie grinned darkly and pocketed it.