‘Some maps should not be read, Mr Hunter,’ he simply says.
‘They’re ready, Matt,’ I hear Abbey instruct me via my hidden earpiece. ‘It’s now or never.’
My mobile phone rings in my pocket, a loud tone of God Save The Queen.
‘Cute,’ the curator remarks.
‘A little on the nose, wouldn’t you say?’ Abbey asks.
‘My brother’s choice,’ I reply.
Taking out my phone, I ignore the call from Abbey and instead activate a feature that no ordinary phone has; another of Tristram’s inventions. Within the phone is a device that latches on to wireless systems and intercepts and blocks video feeds. All the device needs is to be activated near an active computer connected to the system, and the office all around me is filled with computers and screens displaying the live feeds from the security systems. Being brought here was all part of the plan. I see that it has already taken effect, the screens flicking with interference.
‘What’s going on?’ one of the security guards says in alarm, walking closer and flicking through a dozen of the cameras.
‘Forget to pay your bill?’ I joke.
‘Probably just a glitch to do with the renovations at the Neues Museum,’ the other guard says. ‘It’s been having issues all week.’
‘I don’t like this,’ Karl Lehmann states as he glares at me. ‘This is something to do with you.’
‘How when I’m sat right here?’ I say innocently. ‘Can I go now?’
‘Not yet,’ the curator states before turning to his security detail. ‘Double the guards at the entrance of every museum until our feed returns. Keep on the lookout for the other one, his brother.’
Too late, he’s already inside.
22
ADAM—Beneath Museum Island, Berlin, Germany
Dave makes short work of the grating covering the Death Doorway. Luckily, the steel cutters do not make too much noise but Emma and I keep watch for signs of discovery. Beyond the Death’s Door, we drop down into a tunnel of complete darkness. At our feet are steel lines that look designed for carts to travel down, similar to a mine.
‘You are now standing in the tunnel that runs straight from the Alte Nationalgalerie Museum to the central vaults beneath the island,’ Abbey explains. ‘They likely transport all their most priceless art down here for protection.’
‘Can’t imagine who’d be stupid enough to break into museums,’ Dave mutters.
‘The security cameras’ feed is blocked for the moment, but you need to get to the central vaults as fast as possible,’ Abbey tells us. ‘I can’t guarantee how long Matt can keep the curator and his goons busy.’
‘Matt loves to talk so I’m sure he’ll be fine,’ I say as we run down the tunnel.
‘If he’s anything like Adam, I’m sure he’ll wind up in prison soon enough,’ Emma taunts.
‘No way. Matt’s the Golden Boy, he never gets into trouble.’ I laugh.
‘Save your breath for running,’ Dave orders.
‘Yes, sir!’ Emma and I reply as we pick up the pace.
Within no time, we approach a secured hatchway. Thankfully, it’s unmanned but the security camera above us reminds us of our need for haste. Dave tries the hatch, but it’s sealed tight with a locking mechanism that even I cannot pick.
‘It’s asking for eye and voice confirmation,’ Emma says, indicating a console on the side of the door.
‘Adam, line up the glasses with the scanner,’ Abbey instructs.
I do as ordered, and over the lenses of the headset appear a set of eyes different to mine.
‘Whose are they?’ I ask, but another voice replies back.
‘Karl Lehmann,’ the German curator’s voice states through speakers in the headset. A confirmation appears on the console screen and the hatch door automatically opens.
‘How did you do that?’ Emma asks.
‘Recorded it with the headset when Adam and Matt met the curator before,’ Abbey says. ‘Scanned his eyes too.’
‘These glasses really are priceless,’ I say, impressed.
‘Then don’t take them off,’ she tells me, reminding me of a promise I have broken before.
We hurry through the hatch and into the secret vaults of Berlin’s Museum Island. We are stunned by a collection only comparable to what is hidden in the lower floors of the British Museum. There are countless pieces of art, royal crowns, and towering stone and marble statues of gods and rulers. I see a pirate flag, too; the devil piercing a heart with a sword, which I know is the insignia of Blackbeard. I even spot a First World War tank among the wide assortment of vehicles and planes and what appears to be a full-size airship like the infamous Zeppelin above us.
‘Is that it?’ Emma asks, spotting a single train carriage on its own. The carriage has ornate markings and is fully furnished but there is no locomotive to go with it.
‘Nope, that actually matches the specifications and markings of the Compiegne Wagon,’ Abbey explains via the headset.
‘Go on,’ I reply. ‘I know you’re dying to tell us.’
‘The Compiegne Wagon is famous for two things,’ she explains, excitement in her voice. ‘Firstly, it was where the German army signed the 1918 armistice treaty, ending hostilities in the First World War. Secondly…’
‘It’s where Hitler forced the French to sign their own armistice and surrender in 1940,’ Dave says.
‘Spot on, Mr Conway,’ Abbey replies. ‘Having soundly beaten the French Army and the British Expeditionary Force, Hitler specifically requested the surrender be signed within the exact same carriage.’
‘Hitler’s supreme moment of revenge,’ Dave adds, peering through the windows into the carriage.
‘The Compiegne Wagon was said to have been destroyed by the SS in 1945 at the end of the war,’ Abbey says. ‘Its ashes were buried and never recovered.’
‘I guess not,’ I add. ‘Time is of the essence, guys. Let’s keep moving.’
The farther into the vaults we walk, the more we see, and the stranger the artefacts become.
‘Is that a skull with a pair of fangs?’ Emma asks.
‘Yep,’ I reply. ‘And is that a sword surrounded in burning flames?’
‘Let’s keep going,’ Dave says. ‘Anyone see part of a train?’
‘No,’ I say, stopping in my tracks, ‘but I see a fully built locomotive with a whopping great swastika across its face.’
There in the centre of all the riches and relics of the vaults is a fully constructed steam train with three passenger cars behind it. All are in pristine condition as if newly built and furnished.
‘That’s our girl,’ Emma says, and the three of us rush towards the locomotive.
‘Hurry, guys. You don’t have much time,’ Abbey warns as she keeps an eye on how my brother is faring with the curator.
‘All we need to do is get the map,’ I explain, ‘then go back the way we came, fix the Death Doorway and return the priest’s robes and keys. No worries.’
‘I’m sorry, but it’s not going to be that easy,’ a voice calls out from behind us. I recognise the voice. It belongs to an Australian I’d hoped never to see again.
Standing there watching us are three former foes. Two of them I crossed in saving Matt and recovering the Eagle standard of the Ninth Roman Legion, the mercenaries American Jack Bishop and Australian Leon Bransby. I hate them both for what they did to Matt when they took him hostage.
Bishop is the same towering brute I remember; square shouldered, iron jawed, and a chest like a truck, but now with a beard covering half his face. Leon casts a salute towards me with a cruel grin as he removes his biker goggles. Both men have scarring around their clouded grey eyes.
The third member of their group ambushed us not so long ago at the beached U-boat; her red and black dreadlocks and the maddened gaze are unmistakable: Follia. All three are armed; Follia with her Katana, and the other two with guns. They eye us like a predator eyes its prey.
‘Fancy meeting
you here,’ Follia says. ‘Especially you, dear husband,’ she says, addressing Dave.
‘Jenny?’ he blurts with surprise.
‘Husband?’ the rest of us ask in unison.
‘This is Jenny!’ I say, unable to get a grip on the strange circumstance.
‘I haven’t heard that name for quite some time,’ she replies.
‘Not since you walked out on me and your daughter,’ Dave replies angrily, pacing forward. ‘You abandoned us for a life of crime. I don’t believe this! You were the one at the U-boat. What the hell are you doing here?’
‘Oh, how I have missed those smouldering green eyes of yours, husband,’ she says.
‘I haven’t missed you at all!’ he seethes.
Follia draws her Katana blade and raises it in Dave’s direction. ‘That’s good. It will make killing you so much less… emotional.’
‘You abandoned us!’ Dave screams at her.
All at once, Dave crumples to his knees and then he hits the floor, unconscious. I see Bishop standing with the butt of his gun grasped in his hand.
‘You think now is the time for a domestic spat?’ he taunts.
‘I believe you boys have some business with young Master Hunter over there,’ Follia says, turning her eyes to Bishop but not lowering her blade.
‘Aye, that we do,’ Bishop says, shouldering his weapon and pacing towards me with Leon in tow. ‘A gunshot would alert security, but a few broken bones shouldn’t cause too much noise.’
‘It took a month for our eye-sight to return to us after that stunt with the Eagle,’ Leon says. ‘Even now, we have to wear these damned contact lenses to see properly.’
‘Only right we return the favour,’ Bishop sneers.
‘We’ve been waiting for this,’ Leon says, cracking his knuckles.
‘So have I,’ I warn them as Emma and I ready ourselves.
When they are within a few paces from us, we charge, taking the initiative. Emma reaches Bishop first, ducking beneath his lumbering fist and striking him hard with punches and a knee to the ribs. He doesn’t react, taking the hits before turning and grabbing her by the throat. Bishop slams Emma into the steel body of the locomotive, but she still keeps fighting.
I have my hands full, blocking two strikes from Leon before punching him hard to the gut and then across the face. He laughs, drawing a baton that sparks with electricity.
‘Borrowed this off Follia,’ he sneers before swinging it towards me.
I catch the baton in my hand but the charge hits me, shocking my arm. Pain flares as the muscles spasm. My obvious distress fuels Leon on and he strikes me again, this time to the chest, delivering a full electrical load. I’m in so much pain that I can’t even cry out. I can’t fight him off and he strikes again.
‘I owe you this, and much more, for what you did to us at the Vatican,’ Leon says.
I look to Emma, still held by the throat, her face turning dark red.
‘Let her go,’ I croak before Leon electrifies me again.
‘You can’t help your girlfriend now,’ Leon laughs.
‘I’ll choke the life out of her,’ Bishop says. ‘And you’ll watch on, helpless, as she dies.’
‘No…’ I cry.
‘What the hell is going on?’ a voice calls out from across the chamber. Miraculously, Leon backs away from me and I see Bishop release Emma. She falls to the ground, gasping for breath and I crawl to her side.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask, but she can only nod.
There are already bruises surfacing on her neck. I look up to see a pair of security guards approach us with their handguns raised.
‘You’re in a restricted area,’ one of them states. ‘How did you access these vaults?’
‘Magic and marvel,’ Follia boasts. She wears a wide grin as she walks towards the guards with hands outstretched. ‘We simply couldn’t resist coming down here to gaze upon your fine collection. It is unlike any other in the world, wouldn’t you agree?’
‘Stop right there,’ the guard warns with raised gun. ‘Don’t come any closer.’
‘How am I to embrace you,’ Follia questions, ‘if we are not close?’
‘You’re mad,’ the guard says, glancing nervously towards his companion.
Without further warning, Follia swiftly draws her Katana blade. One of the guards manages to fire two rounds, but she dodges the bullets with ease and mercilessly strikes down both men with her blade.
‘We’re all mad here.’ She laughs.
From the far side of the vaults we hear voices; more security guards are arriving.
‘Too late for stealth now,’ Follia says, pulling a grenade from her pocket. ‘Ready to fight your way out of here, boys?’
‘Always keen for a fight,’ Leon says, as he and Bishop draw their weapons.
‘Do bring my husband along,’ Follia says. ‘I wouldn’t want to leave him down here all alone.’
Bishop throws Dave’s unconscious body over his shoulder. I call out but Dave doesn’t move. A streak of blood is trickling down his cheek.
‘Good luck, guys,’ Follia calls to us as she tosses the grenade in to the belly of the vault. ‘We’ll be seeing you real soon.’
The vault tremors as the grenade explodes, casting fire and smoke and triggering a screeching alarm throughout the facility. We are showered in dust but are otherwise unharmed. The museum security guards open fire as Follia, Leon, and Bishop make their escape. Bullets tear and ricochet through the vault. Many glass cabinets that house relics are shattered in the cross-fire, triggering more deafening alarms.
‘C’mon,’ I say, pulling Emma towards safety behind the train.
‘The map,’ she replies, pointing towards the locomotive’s engine.
‘Damn it,’ I reply, hurrying to the train and up the stairs inside the driver’s cab. The interior of the cab is as pristine as the rest of the train and I doubt it ever actually ran or transported anything.
‘C’mon, it has to be here somewhere,’ Emma says as we scan every surface for any sign of a map or anything chiselled into the bodywork.
‘Got it,’ I say, looking up to the ceiling of the driver’s cab.
‘Wow,’ is all Emma can say, looking up at the sprawling engraving that covers the entire ceiling. I recognise the names of several cities and ports across Germany, Belgium, Holland, and France, but there are far too many names to remember. Above the top of the map is the word Totenkopf, the Death’s Head Division, and the emblem of a skull engulfed in flames.
‘Abbey, you with us?’ I ask hurriedly.
‘You guys need to get out of there now!’ she cries back through the headset. ‘All the security and police in the area have been alerted. They are closing in. The entire Museum Island is being evacuated. If you stay, you’ll be trapped. All of Berlin is about to come down on you!’
‘We know, but we can’t leave here empty-handed,’ I say as the sound of the gunfight still rages. ‘Do you know if any of these train lines on the map cross locations with U-boat bases?’
‘Cross-referencing now,’ she says. ‘I’ve got it. You two need to get out of there now!’
‘What about Dave?’ I ask.
‘We can’t do anything for him now,’ Emma tells me, taking my hand and pulling me out of the driver’s cab.
‘Em, we can’t just leave him with her,’ I tell her.
We jump down from the locomotive and see the wreckage from the gun battle between Follia’s group and the security units. There is no sign of them. We need to get out of here as well.
‘We have to go, Adam,’ Emma says. ‘We don’t have a choice. Any suggestions, Abbey?’
‘Follia and her thugs seem to be heading in the direction of the Pergamon Museum,’ Abbey informs us. ‘Most of the security details are entering the tunnels from the Altes Museum and the Humboldt Forum. You need to head for the Neues Museum. It’s your best chance. Take the hatch to the west. Go now!’
We don’t need any further encouragement. More security
is arriving on the far side of the vault. Using the museums’ collection as cover, we keep low and unseen, quickly reaching the western hatch, which should lead to the tunnel that will take us to the Neues Museum. The hatch is sealed, likely a security precaution triggered by the alarms, but it opens at the input of the curator’s eyes and voice provided by my headset.
Beyond the hatch is another dark tunnel lined with tracks that lead up to the museum in the distance. We run without speaking, both of us sweating from the heat of the tunnel and our efforts, our eyes fixed on the distance until we see lights ahead. At first, I hope it is the exit but then realise the lights are moving.
Emma grabs my hand and pulls me to the side of the tunnel, dropping down to the ground and hiding against the verge that rises up to the tracks. I hold my breath, not making a sound as a detail of four guards hurries towards us.
‘Halt,’ the guard says, stopping his colleagues. ‘Ich dachte, ich hätte etwas gesehen.’
‘I thought I saw something,’ Abbey translates for us.
‘Jemand da?’ another guard calls out.
‘Anybody there?’ Abbey says.
They sweep the tunnel with their torches, seeking us out. We lie as flat as possible, the torch-light just missing us.
‘Wir sollten gehen,’ another of the guards says.
‘They’re leaving,’ Abbey whispers. We wait a while longer, making completely sure the coast is clear before we emerge and continue down the tunnel.
‘That was too close,’ I say as we hurry.
‘We’re not out yet,’ Emma replies. ‘Look ahead. There’s the exit but there’s also two guards. But we haven’t got any choice...’
I see Emma prepare a smoke canister and a breathing mask. She indicates for me to put mine on. I take the left flank of the tunnel and Emma takes the right, moving slow and keeping crouched and unseen. Both guards have hands on their weapons, ready to draw and fire at any sign of trouble.
‘What are they saying, Abbey?’ I whisper, hearing the guards talking.
‘They’re debating whether the alarm is just a drill,’ she tells me through the headset. Abbey’s whispering too, even though the guards would never be able to hear her. ‘They don’t think much of the curator.’
War of the Damned (Relic Hunters) Page 12